'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
