“Close your mouth, you little shit!”
Bill shouted at Tony, his youngest son.
The dentist glared at Bill angrily,
And continued working on the little boy’s tooth.
#7 Iron Bru
Today, I drank some Iron Bru,
And I died a little inside.
Prince Charles watched the Channel 5 news
And learnt that Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands had abdicated her queenship,
Allowing her son to become the new king.
Charles glanced over at his mother,
Who solemnly shook her head,
And returned to completing her Su-doku.
Whilst defending his castle in the back garden,
Young Adam stumbled across a new species of worm.
He ran inside and informed his father,
Who was too busy watching Loose Women to acknowledge him.
Days later, young Adam received a letter from Blue Peter, the popular television show
(This was the early 2000s, after all).
Young Adam knew that this was his moment of fame.
He bought new boots, jeans and a jumper from Next.
But when he went on the show, it turned out that his worm had died,
For worms do not live as long as you or I.
Young Adam soiled himself in embarrassment and was presented with a round Blue Peter badge
(which everyone knows aren’t as good)
And an out of date sighed poster of John Leslie.
Friday night meant that Gerard did not have work tomorrow,
And so, after a long day of giving tours at the Natural History Museum to hyperactive year 5s,
Gerard treated himself to a warm bubble bath.
After waiting approximately 4 minutes to obtain the optimum amount of water,
Gerard stripped off his groggy clothes and sank into luxury.
He loved the way the bubbles (which were the product of the revolutionary idea to mix bubble bath and shower gel together) fizzed as the soap graced their presence.
He loved how the water sloshed backwards and forwards, invoking in Gerard nostalgic thoughts of his youth.
Unfortunately, Gerard was a slightly overweight 50-something man,
And as such had limited control over his bowels.
He let out a bubbly fart, simultaneously disgusting himself and corrupting the bath.
Gerard got out and went to bed in a huff.
Ethel gulped down the last of her Coca-Cola.
“Right,” she thought. “Now, my diet begins.”
She discarded the crumpled bottle and threw it near, but not quite in, the overflowing bin.
There were a couple of seconds of clarity, when Ethel knew that her life would change for the better.
But these were quickly discarded when Corrie came back on,
And she opened a can of Pepsi Max, resigned to a life of obesity.
The deal was done, and so Margery moved into her new home.
It had a fantastic view of Gunwarf Quay in Portsmouth.
If she looked hard, she could see the fishermen coming in with their daily catches at 7am sharp.
There was a nearby pathway where old women would walk their dogs and discuss the day’s soap.
Of course, this meant nothing to Margery, as she was a bumblebee,
And therefore had no awareness of the concept of aesthetics.
It was December 1st, and young Max received a parcel in the post.
He knew what it was – for he got one every year:
An advent calendar from his dear Grandmother.
Oh what glee he was filled with as he tore back the packaging.
And there it was: a Madagascar (his fourth favourite movie) themed calendar, filled with cheap Poundland chocolate.
He couldn’t stop himself.
He ripped off the first window and guzzled down a Marty-shaped chocolate.
But then he saw red.
Later, Max’s mum, Paula, walked into the kitchen and screamed as she saw young Max entangled on the floor within a pile of cardboard.
All the chocolate was gone.
Paula didn’t punish Max, for she knew that the disappointment he felt every day, when his older brother Darren ate a tasty tasty advent chocolate, was bad enough.
It was 7am,
And Murray ran downstairs filled with glee,
And gazed at the panoply of presents under the tree.
He jumped in, and grabbed a gift with his name on.
Tore off the paper, to see what it was:
A model locomotive D51!
He thanked God, Jesus, Santa, and his brother Phil, whom the present was from.
His wife, Janet, who had ripened with age, sat back in her chair,
And reassessed her marriage.
Today was the day, he thought.
Today, he would propose!
He bent down on one knee,
On the hard rocky terrain that, try as it might, did nothing to quell his spirits,
He pulled out the ring, and uttered those magic words.
“Oh, Mr Frodo!” cried Sam, the ashen winds of Mt Doom blowing through his luscious wavy hair.
Gollum watched from behind a rock, sighed, and decided that this endeavour just wasn’t worth it.