shoplifters of the world! unite and take over!
A PLEASANT FAMILY CONVERSATION (or: The "How Many Paul McCartney's Wife Has No Leg Jokes It Is Possible To Make In Five Minutes?" Game)
MUM: And, alas, Sir Paul and Lady Not-Linda McCartney are no more.
ME: Oh, he'll come to regret it. It's going to cost an arm and a leg. (unbecoming snigger)
DAD: Luckily, they've already made an advance deposit on the Leg Front.
ME: Quantity: one, second-hand (well, second-foot, anyway), condition: slightly worn?
DAD: Exactly. Very sensible of them.
MUM: Well, there you go, then, they're halfway there! And arms aren't too hard to come across, are they?
ME: Of course not. For a start, those manifold ones that people were up in when Not-Linda first started mining for gold-- um, eternal happiness. They should do!
MUM: I really don't know what the papers are making a fuss about - it's all worked out quite nicely!
ME: ...you know, Satan is preparing a spare family room as we speak.
DAD: Yes, but only for the bad puns. The rest was entirely justified.
ME: Oh, definitely! No limb about it.
DAD: Speaking of Lucifer--
ME: Doubt! No doubt about it! That's definitely what I said!
I am going to a Eurovision party on this evening, which will probably be fun because the Eurovision Song Contest is essentially less of a song contest and more of a collection of inordinately sparkly bits of Parmesan singing songs that probably made sense in their original language, but end up getting translated into things like "O, I are overly loving of my goat!" and "Softly he dips my cherry-red lips in the essence of hope on which my love can float!" (and that second one, brilliantly, is actually a real lyric from 2002).
Obviously, England aren't going to win, because we've got an old bloke rapping about teenagers and it's a bit naff, but if I were going to enter, my song would go like this and people would be so shocked at my Honesty And Political Relevance that they would all vote for me and I would win by a land-slide and it would be awesome:
Eurovision, Eurovision, Eurovision, what a lark!
You won't vote for us 'cos we invaded Iraq!
Eurovision, Eurovision, Eurovision, not a chance!
Only one thing we agree on: we all hate France!
You know it makes sense.
MUM: And, alas, Sir Paul and Lady Not-Linda McCartney are no more.
ME: Oh, he'll come to regret it. It's going to cost an arm and a leg. (unbecoming snigger)
DAD: Luckily, they've already made an advance deposit on the Leg Front.
ME: Quantity: one, second-hand (well, second-foot, anyway), condition: slightly worn?
DAD: Exactly. Very sensible of them.
MUM: Well, there you go, then, they're halfway there! And arms aren't too hard to come across, are they?
ME: Of course not. For a start, those manifold ones that people were up in when Not-Linda first started mining for gold-- um, eternal happiness. They should do!
MUM: I really don't know what the papers are making a fuss about - it's all worked out quite nicely!
ME: ...you know, Satan is preparing a spare family room as we speak.
DAD: Yes, but only for the bad puns. The rest was entirely justified.
ME: Oh, definitely! No limb about it.
DAD: Speaking of Lucifer--
ME: Doubt! No doubt about it! That's definitely what I said!
I am going to a Eurovision party on this evening, which will probably be fun because the Eurovision Song Contest is essentially less of a song contest and more of a collection of inordinately sparkly bits of Parmesan singing songs that probably made sense in their original language, but end up getting translated into things like "O, I are overly loving of my goat!" and "Softly he dips my cherry-red lips in the essence of hope on which my love can float!" (and that second one, brilliantly, is actually a real lyric from 2002).
Obviously, England aren't going to win, because we've got an old bloke rapping about teenagers and it's a bit naff, but if I were going to enter, my song would go like this and people would be so shocked at my Honesty And Political Relevance that they would all vote for me and I would win by a land-slide and it would be awesome:
Eurovision, Eurovision, Eurovision, what a lark!
You won't vote for us 'cos we invaded Iraq!
Eurovision, Eurovision, Eurovision, not a chance!
Only one thing we agree on: we all hate France!
You know it makes sense.