The Sandwich: #5

The Sandwich


Remind me I need to buy a new trowel.

Anyway, today I got a letter on thick paper from the council. I think it's quite encouraging that they can afford thick paper. It means that austerity is over. The contents of the letter were not so much welcome. They said that my sandwich is a mental hazard because it is now bigger than the house and it looms over the bus shelter, in a bad way. They said it makes the air all grotty and the throb-throb pulsating glow throughout the night time interferes with the planes from the nearby airport. Some people can be really touchy.

The long, tall, short and squat of it all is that I have to shift it, which presents big problem number one because I've got nothing big enough to put it in. Somebody really clever said that because it's gone all squishy-squashy on the underneath parts it ought to be ever-so-quite-easy to slide it towards the downhill bit of the street. Even so, I will need a ten-ton truck to pull it and I will have to demolish the garage. Otherwisely, I might cut it into chunks and get rid of it bit by bit by bit, probably by air mail or electronic diffusion. I'm going to get a spoon and give it a go, although I'm not very much looking forward to it because the last time I went near it, it slapped me in the face.



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Mrs Lubricant wants to make the coastline less 'jaggedy'.
A gobful of abuse from young Paul certainly strikes home.
Nobody's interested in 'darksabers'
Three tests for nationhood
'Sadly, not everyone can handle themselves as well as I can'
'Diagnose your problem with this tool, you diseased wretch'
Major General Barmy-Phipps Discusses Operation Growbag
with Derek the Fact Crab


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The Bleeding Obvious Prime Time Gameshow Generator

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