Some more smallish items…

But first…
Dulltown, Europe: Today’s expletive is ‘Zooterkins!’ – a mild oath, often used by ladies of the court in Elizabeth I’s reign.
Why not employ this nice expletive the next time someone bashes a trolley into the backs of your legs at the supermarket checkout?
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Excuses for being late. No. 230.
I’m sorry I’m late, but a subduction zone opened up in my front garden. (S.Z.)

A single overheard remark:
‘You stay in all the time – you’re like a fuckin’ Druid!…’
(I think he meant ‘hermit’.) (D.)

Gosh look, a pretty teenage girl with a thick black Zapata moustache! Oh no, I’m mistaken, she’s just holding the handle of her umbrella up under her nose…

‘Are you seeing anyone at the moment?’
‘What, you mean wraiths, apparitions, dead departed souls?…’
‘No, you idiot! Are you going out with anyone?’
‘What exactly do you mean by ‘out’?’
‘Oh, shut up!…’

Walt Disney was well known for having animated conversations…

‘So, what sort of neighbourhood do you live in Dave?’
‘Well, the other day I noticed a chap on a big loud motorbike coming down the street. He slowed down, turned, and went across the pavement and through an open gate onto the front path of a house; he got off his bike, went into the house and came back out with a wooden plank. He laid the plank up the front step of the house, got back on his bike and drove it up the plank into the house, switched the engine off, came out and got his plank, went back inside with it and shut the door behind him…’
‘Nice!…’

A single overheard remark:
‘He didn’t have a corner to stand in!…’

‘What are all those strange insubstantial things flopping about on the cafe floor Dave?’
‘Oh, they are just the voices of the young singer songwriters whose songs have been playing over the cafe speakers.’
‘What?… So why…?’
‘Well, didn’t you notice? The track that played after theirs happened to be by Aretha Franklin – the power of her voice sucked all the life out of their feeble efforts, and they could do nothing but fall out of the speakers and wallow in their mediocrity on the cappuccino-stained cafe floor…’
‘Oh, the poor young things!…’
‘Indeed!…’

 

 

 

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in art, brain, conversation, cool, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, expletives, Grumpiness, history, Hull.UK., humour, information, mind, music, observations, serendipity, style, surrealism, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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