As I sit here realising that I had not noticed that my daughter has left the contents of her nostrils attached to my shirt which is giving me the nickname of Captain Snotsky, I find myself surfing the net. After all, I am at work. Why wouldn’t I be? It certainly beats the other 2 options. The first iswatching the TV which is currently showing some 1960’s movie about something or other…I don’t know, the clothing scares me enough. But hey, they aren’t wearing a shirt made out of a 3 month olds snot so who am I to complain? The other option is to actually do some work. Yeah I know…crazy!
Instead, I have just read about a couple who were charged 10,000 rupee (or £124 if you inhabit Blighty – you do your own damn conversion if you aren’t Indian or British) for four samosas. The reason for the cost was that the shop keeper said that they contained herbs and aphrodisiac qualities.
Not completely believing Mr Shopkeeper, they questioned the bill. Now, if I was the shop keeper, I would have said “Well, I just screwed you with the cost didn’t I!”. Instead, he was made to pay back most of the money and after a police complaint, he has since gone in to hiding.
Lets be honest, it wont be hard to find him. He is living off of a stash of his “aphrodisiac” samosas which means he has a raging stiffy and a twitch where he hasn’t got his freak on since going in to hiding. He should stick out like me at a thin persons party. You know, loads of people pointing in a “what the hell!” kind of way. The difference is that he has a chance of becoming a tent salesman with his “Always On” contraption.
Of course, it matters not whether you are fat, thin or indifferent. It wont help you live longer. Nope, being brainy is the way to a longer life. I could go in to the whole reason why which has something to do with enzymes, biological catalysts and detoxification of the brain, but I have a room temperature IQ which basically means I am about due to expire.
But I can question their “scientific study” by giving this piece of information:
This morning just after crawling in to my pit after an unusually busy night shift, there was a knock at the front door. As not to wake up my daughter and wife from the ringing of the doorbell a second time, I jumped out of bed and running downstairs semi naked with my body doing an impression of a large bowl of jelly being rigorously shaken (the rigorously shaken could also be like Mr Samosa Salesman after an overdose of samosa) I opened the door hoping that the postman would be holding a parcel for me that I have been waiting for.
“Hello. We would like to talk to you about God”
This was the first and only phrase spoken by the 2 people who no matter how big an IQ they had, were going to be leaving either my doorstep or this planet in the next 4 seconds.
wheelturninghamsterdead.com 