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Posts Tagged ‘Toilet’

Hello Folks,

I recently had to seize goods to the value of £3,578.78 from an Indian Head Massage parlour in Maidenhead for non-payment of Business Rates.

I’m not really up to speed with all this mystic stuff  – I first ate a courgette when I was 42 and I still don’t understand the concept of a meal without chips. So you see where I’m coming from.

As the chief masseur Eric, a tall lad with a touch of Shirley Bassey about him, scrambled around looking for money, I availed myself of his facilities. My new Five A Day regime is really working.

Naturally, being a place that deals with mumbo jumbo I had a shufty at a three-week old Guardian stuffed behind the toilet radiator. Inside was an article by that bloke from Tibet  The Dalai Lama.  Sounds like a veggie curry to me but there you go.

Old Dilly Dalai was talking about the benefits of meditation for a tranquil and peaceful life. Inspired, I decided to give mediationism a go.

So I assumed the Lotus position on the pot, tricky with your trousers around your ankles, rebalanced my cheeks, closed my eyes and emptied my thoughts.

“OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhmmmmmm” I cried. I felt good.

“OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhmmmmmm” I repeated. I felt better. Lighter. In tune with my life.

There was a small plop.

I opened my eyes and there was Eric standing in front of me with 26 pence in loose change. As I had reached a higher spiritual plane I gave him an extra week to get the money together.

I also told him to put a lock on his toilet door.

Be Lucky

Bob

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Bob Lewington here;

I was round Mum’s yesterday afternoon to put some new batteries in her TV remote control. I’m a dab hand at DIY you see.

After trying for twenty minutes to get the cover off,  I told Mum that this was a bigger job than appeared. I needed to ponder my strategy whilst completing a movement.

On the pot I read my horoscope in the paper. With Venus in the ascendant and Neptune on a bender (or some such, I’ve never really understood Gastrology to be honest)  I should; “Be careful today of undertaking complex tasks  involving machinery and instead prepare for a romantic encounter.”

That knocked the battery change on the head.

After I’d eaten the bacon rolls Mum had made, I nipped home to watch the film my mate Pete the Slip had given me down The Reclusive Monkey on Saturday.

Shirley had gone to the Bingo so I had a couple of hours to kill before she got home to cook my tea.

Lovemeat Sandwich had some very good camera work. And the script was very challenging.

Shirley caught me in a compromising position on the leather cornerpiece. She didn’t believe me when I told her that I was just airing my rash.

I had to cook my own fish fingers for tea.

Horoscopes. Spooky. End of.

Be Lucky

Bob

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Hello Folks,

Bob Lewington here again.

When I’m on the pot, I like to read a lot. It’s a man thing!

I was involved in a repossession yesterday. Sir Amethyst Yeast-Gravel had failed to pay his Council Tax. Sad to see the nobility falling on hard times.

They should take a leaf out of my cousin Terry’s book and consider armed robbery as a career option.

Anyway before I took possession of goods to the value of what Sir Yeast-Gravel owed, his noblilityness kindly allowed me to use his facilities.

You could tell he was posh because a copy of Horse and Hound was the in-store reading material.

I like horses. beautiful creatures. Legs, Necks, Tails. They’ve got the lot in my opinion. I like to spend Saturday afternoons with me mates in The Nervous Budgie supping a few pints of Beater and having a bet.

Never ridden a horse though! Saddles give me the collywobbles and just thinking about stirrups causes my rash to break out.

Where’s the Calamine lotion?

Best Wishes

Bob

By the by, Sir Yeast-Gravel had a very nice antique Blunderbuss hanging over his living room mantelpiece, which more than covered the amount due.

Terry thinks he can find a use for it, in a sawn off, customised version.

Pimp My Musket!

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Hello Folks,

Bob Lewington here again.

When I’m on the pot, I like to read a lot. It’s a man thing!

I was involved in a repossession yesterday. Sir Amethyst Yeast-Gravel had failed to pay his Council Tax. Sad to see the nobility falling on hard times.

They should take a leaf out of my cousin Terry’s book and consider armed robbery as a career option.

Anyway before I took possession of goods to the value of what Sir Yeast-Gravel owed, his noblilityness kindly allowed me to use his facilities.

You could tell he was posh because of the a copy of Horse and Hound as the in-store reading material.

I like horses. beautiful creatures. Legs, Necks, Tails. They’ve got the lot in my opinion. I like to spend Saturday afternoons with me mates in The Nervous Budgie supping a few pints of Beater and having a bet.

Never ridden a horse though! Saddles give me the collywobbles and just thinking about stirrups causes my rash to reappear.

Where’s the Calamine lotion?

Best Wishes

Bob

By the by, Sir Yeast-Gravel had a very nice antique Blunderbuss hanging over his living room mantelpiece, which more than covered the amount due.

Terry thinks he can find a use for it, in a sawn off, customised version.

Pimp My Musket!

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Hello Folks,

Bob Lewington here again.

I was round my son’s Bob, or Young Bob as he is known in the family. Sometimes I am known as Old Bob, Dad Bob, Papa Bob or my own favourite, Head of the Household and Main Provider Bob.

Nature decided to take its course.  Young Bob’s girlfriend Lily had a copy of Hello! magazine to hand so I had a quick shufty whilst performing my evacuation.

Olympic Hero Bradley Wiggins was shown retieing the laces of his shoes which had come undone in the street! He’s a double knot man by the look of it.

There was also photo of Kate Winslet buying some plums (they looked a bit bruised to me) David Beckham examining his tattoos and Lady Gaga eating a cheese and pickle sandwich.

Absolutely fascinating.

I’m going to get Young Bob to take a grainy photo of me examining an over ripe strawberry and send it to Hello!  It looks like they print any old rubbish.

Might make Young Bob and me a few bob so to speak.

Best wishes,

Bob

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Hello Folks,

Bob Lewington here again.

When I’m on the pot, I like to read a lot. It’s a man thing!

I popped round to my mum’s this morning to put some new shelves up for her. I’ve got a drill. Don’t use a spirit level though. Don’t trust bubbles. Sinister things

Sunday’s cabbage worked its magic and I needed the facilities. I read about Neil Armstrong in The Sun.

I remember that July day in ’69. Dad had got me up at 4 in the morning to watch him walk on the moon. Armstrong that is. Not Dad. He was in his pants and vest on the settee next to me watching the telly.

Dead impressed I was. I stuck the goldfish bowl over me head pretending to be Armstrong. There were half a dozen lads in Gravesend A and E  all wearing goldfish bowls.  A lot of goldfish must have come to a sticky end that day.

When the bowl was off, I got a slap round the head from the Nurses, Doctors and Dad. And a passing Policeman for good measure. Kids have it easy these days. A good beating did me the world of good.

Here’s to Neil Armstrong I thought as I reached for the toilet roll. He had reached for the Stars.

C’est la vie.

All the best,

Bob.

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