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LAST WILL AND TESTICLE


'I, Barrold Reginald Bunker-Harquart
being of sound mind you, limp and bodie,
do on this day the 18 of Septemper 1924th,
leave all my belodgings estate and brown
suits to my nice neice Elsie. The above
afformentioned hereafter to be kept in a
large box untit she is 21 of age, then to be
released amongst a birthdave party given
in her honour. She will then be wheeled
gladly into the Great Hall or kitchen,
and all my wordly good heaped upon her
in abundance. Thus accordianto my will
will this be carried out as I lie in the
ground getting eaten.'
This then was the last will and testicle of I Barrold Reginald
Bunker-Harquart, which was to change the lives of so many
peoble - speciality little Elsie whom was only thirteens.
'Are you sure I have to stay in the box?' asked Elsie child-
ishly.
'Yer not deaf are yer?' yelled Freud Q.C. what was helping.
'Yer 'eard the familias solister as good as we didn't yer? '
'I was only makeing conversation' replied Elisie who was only
thirteen.
Just then Elisies dear Old Nanny Harriette broke down in
tears and everybody walked quietly out of the room leaving her
to her grease, except Dr (not the) Barnado.
'There there Harriette, that won't bring the Mastered back' he
said knowingly.
'I know I know' she bluttered 'its not that, its where are we
going to find a box to fit her foot? tell me that, where are we
going to find a box to fit her foot?' Luckily the Dr knew a
carpentor in the village who was A W O N D E R W I T H
W O O D. 'I'm wonder with wood.' he used to say, as he sored
his way through life - with a naiI in one hand and polio in the
other (his light hand being stronger than his lest). 'Children
should be seized and not hard' was something Uncle Barrold
had always said and even Old Nanny had always replied
'Overy clown has a silver lifeboat' which always dried him ap.
Anywait, Elisie was soon entombed in her made to marion
box, and people from miles adavies would come and visit HER,
but only when it was sunny - for she was kept rightly in the
garden. 'At least she'll get some fresh air.' argued Old Nanny -
and she was right.
Three years parst and a great change had come over Elsie. Her
once lovely skin was now roof and ready, some say it was that
last bitter winter, others say it wasn't. Her warm smile which
made one forget her hairlip was now a sickly grin, but enough
of that.
Less and lessless people came to visit Elsie especially since
Old Nanny had put the price up. The Dr had kindly devised a
scheme whereby Elsie could call for anything she wanted. It
was a primitive affair, but effective - just a simple microphone
tied into Elsie's mouth. This was attached to a louder speaker
in the kitchen. Of course when Old Nanny was away on holi-
day, she would turn the speaker off. 'No point in her shouting
if I'm away" she would explain.
The years flew by for Elsie in her own box, sooner no than
it was coming round to her twenty-first burly. 'I hope I get the
key of the door' she thought, forgetting for a momemt she was
getting the whole house. The place was was certainly in a state
of anticipatient on the ear of Elsie's birthdaft, and Old Nanny
celebrated by bringing her into the house for 'a warm by the
fire' as she put it. Unfortunately Old Nanny seemed to place
birthday Elsie too near the big old fireplace and her box caught
alight with Elsie still wrapped firmly inside like her Uncle asked.
'She didn"t even eat her cake,' said Old Nanny tearfulham
to Dr (not the) Bernardo the next morning.
'Never mind' he wryled. 'we'll give it io the dog, he'll eat
anything.'
With that the Dr leaped over and gave Old Nanny a
thorough examination on her brand new carpet.
'You can't have your cake and eat it' said a cheerful paying
guessed adding, 'Statistics state that 90% of more accidents are
caused by burning children in the house.'




OUR DAD


It wasn't long before old dad
Was cumbersome - a drag.
He seemed to get the message and
Began to pack his bag.
'You don't want me around,' he said,
'I'm old and crippled too.'
We didn't have the heart to say
'You're bloody right it's true.'
He really took an age and more
To pack his tatty kleid.
We started coughing by the door,
To hurry him outside.
'I'm no use to man nor beast,'
He said, his eye all wet.
'That's why we're getting rid of you,
Yer stupid bastard, get.'
His wrinkIed face turned up to us
A pleading in his look;
We gave him half-a-crown apiece
And polished up his hook.
'It's not that we don't like you dad.'
Our eyes were downcast down.
'We've tried to make a go of it
Yer shrivelled little clown! '
At last he finished packing all,
His iron hand as well.
He even packed the penis
What he'd won at bagatell.
"Spect you'll write a line or two?'
He whined - who could resist?
We held his face beneath the light
And wrote a shopping list.
'Goodbye my sons and fare thee well,
I blame yer not yer see,
It's all yer mothers doing lads,
She's had it in for me.'
'You leave our mother out of this!'
We screamed all fury rage,
'At least she's working for her keep
And nearly twice your age!'
'I'd sooner starve than be a whore!'
The old man said, all hurt.
'Immoral earnings aren't for me,
and living off her dirt.'
'She washes everyday,' we said
Together, all at once.
'It's more than can be said for you
Yer dirty little ponce!'
At last upon the dooistep front
He turned and with a wave
He wished us all 'Good Heavens'
And hoped we'd all behave.
'The best of luck to you old dad!'
We said with slight remorse,
'You'll dig it in the workhouse man.'
(He wouldn't though of course.)
'Ah well he's gone and thats a fact,'
We muttered after lunch,
And hurried to the room in which
He used to wash his hunch.
'Well here's a blessing in disguise;
Not only money too;
He's left his pension book as well
The slimy little jew!'
'What luck we'll have a party
Inviting all our friend.
We've only one but she's a laugh
She lets us all attend.'
We never heard from dad again
I 'spect we never shall
But he'll remain in all our hearts
- a buddy friend and pal.


I BELIEVE, BOOT...


Aman came up to me the other day and said - 'Tell me
vicar - tell me the deafinition of sin?' - and you know, I
couIdn't answer him! Which makes me think - do you ever
wonder (and what do we mean by the word wonder?) what
an ordinary man (and what - I ask myself do we mean by
an ordinary man?) who works in office or factory - goes
to church ont Sunday (what exactly do we mean by
Sunday?) who is also a sinner (we are all sinners).
People are always coming up to me and asking - 'Why, if
Griff is so good anb almighty - why does he bring such
misery into the worId?' - and I can truthfully say St.Alf - ch
8 verse 5 - page 9. 'Griff walks in such mysterious ways
His woodwork to perform' (what do we mean by perform?)
Which leads me neatly, I feel, to our next guest for tonight-
A man whom is stickle trodding the pathway to our beloveb
Griff - slowly but slowly I am here to help with the bridges he
must surely cross.- 'Welcome to our studios tonight Mr
Wabooba (a foreigner)'
Mr W. 'Hellow you Rev boy.'
Rev. Well! Mr Wobooba - may I call you Wog? What is
the basic problem you are facing? (He smiles)
Mr W. 'You! white trash christian boy.' (He also smiles)
Rev. Hmn! can you hallucinate? (He colours)
Mr W. 'I can.' (Colouring too)
Rev. Well? (He smiles)
Mr W. 'Wot ah want to know man - is why almighty Griff con-
tinooally insists on straiking ma fellow blackpool inde
fayse?'
Rev. A man travelling on a train - like you or I - to
Scotland, had two or two bad eggs in his pocket -
and you know - no one would sit by him.
Mr W. 'But ah dont see dat yo' christship. Ah mean, ah don't
see de relevence.'
Rev. 'Well, Wabooba - let me put it this way. In Griff's
eye, we are all a bunch of bananas - swaying in the
breeze - waiting as it were, Wabooba - to be peeled
by His great and understanding love - some of them
fall on stonycroft - and some fall on the waistcoat.
Mr W. 'Well yo' worship, ah says dat if de Griff don't laike de
peoples in de world starfing an' all dat c'n you tell me
why dat de Pope have all dem rich robesan' jewelry an
big house to live - when ma people could fit too tousand
or mo' in dat Vatican Hall - and also de Arch bitter of
Canterbubble - him too!'
Rev. Ai don't think that the Arch bishoff would like to live
in the Vatican with that many people Mr Wabooba
- besides he's C. of E.
Mr W. 'Ah don't mean dat you white trash christmas imperial-
ist !'
Rev. No one has ever called ME an imperialist before,
Mr Wabooba. (He smiles)
Mr W. 'Well ah have.' (Smiling too)
Rev. You certainly have Mr Wabooba. (He turns
other chin and leans forward slowly looking at Mr
Wabooba rather hard. Mr Wabooba leans forward rather
more quickly and they both kiss.)
Mr W. 'Ah forgive you in de name of Fatty Waller de great
savious of ma people.' (He smiles)
Rev. Ai too am capable of compassion dear Wabooba -
and in the name of the Father, Sock and Micky
Most, I forgive you sweet brother.
(With that they clasp each other,in a brotherly way as if
forgetting they are still on camera.)
Rev. Have you ever been to Brighton dear Watooba?
Mr W. 'Ah jes' got back sweet christian friend non de worse
for wearing.' (They get up glassy eyed and linking arms
slowly walk out of the studio to the very left proving
that arbitration is one answer to de prodlem.)
F A D E O U T O N S U I T A B L E C H R I S T I A N
C A P T I O N S


THE END

 


Date: 2015-02-28; view: 1102


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