The column that believes impatience is rewarding.

READER: Wow, I hear you won the lottery, how much?
MYSELF: I’d rather not say. I ticked the “no publicity” box, so only The Mail, The Sun, The Daily Sport, and Hello magazine know about it. Oh, and El Mondo Saucio, Spain’s version of The Guardian.

READER: Congratulations though, I expect Hello will be doing a photo feature.
MYSELF: Yes, they wanted to take nude pics of me and some actress getting hitched at the Elvis Presley Memorial Chapel, Hartlepool. I refused though, because a): Hartlepool is a long way to go to get married to a girl you’ve never met, and b): what’s in it for me? I asked for bus fare, sandwiches and b&b and they said they would get back to me but I don’t think they will buy it. It’s the austerity and the euro crisis apparently.

READER: I think you mean the Brexit crisis.

MYSELF: I stand corrected, as the satisfied customer said to the orthopaedic shoe salesman.

ART BLOW

Professor Thinktank has objected to a recent exhibition by controversial installation artist Bandy Sponk at St.Leonards’ newest gallery The Hung Monkey, which features an exhibit entitled British Hand Dryer, consisting of a stuffed bulldog with its tongue out. The Hastings inventor claims that Sponk has wilfully contravened the copyright on his patent no. 83376799a, The Panting Dog Hand Dryer, which won the 2014 Ecology Now prize for innovative nonsense. “My Panting Dog Hand Dryer, which utilised a living dog, was environmentally sound,” the inventor told us, “its primary energy source being dog food which, compared to fossil fuels, is cheap and plentiful. One minor disadvantage concerned the time factor. A pair of wet hands could take up to three hours to dry, provided the dog could be persuaded to stand still long enough. Unfortunately, in this time- dependent era, people have come to expect things like hand drying to be convenient and quick, an attitude which I have consistently warned will result in the steady decline of all life as we know it, and the eventual domination of the Earth’s ecosystem by deadly microscopic bacteria by the year 2537”.

POETRY NOW
Joseph The Juggler by Nancy Pollock

Joseph the juggler

Had three balls

Which he twirled in an arc in the air

'Til a woman called Brenda

Put one in a blender

And now he has only the pair

INK OR WHIM

The widely anticipated opening of Smudge, the tattoo parlour run by veteran bluesman Blind Willy Nillyson, was attended by hundreds, many taking up Blind Willy’s opening offer of a half-price tattoo. I spoke to a visibly upset Bernard Rumbelow of Upper Dicker as he came out of the parlour. “I wanted Garden of Earthly Delights by Heronymous Bosch tattooed on my penis but was advised that that would require 48 hours notice and a small donation to the Prado museum in Madrid, so instead I had a small shamrock done in the crook of my elbow. Mr. Nillyson assured me that his visual impairment would have no effect on his tattooing ability but frankly, it was a bit of a disappointment as it’s come out more like a hedgehog. On reflection, I think I probably got off lightly though; I just saw a lady in there asking for a portrait of Eric Clapton on her buttocks along with the words There but for the grace of God, goes God.”

LOL BREAKTHROUGH

Professor Thinktank, the eminent Hastings inventor, has recently come up with a confectionary idea for the winter, warm ice lollies. Made from children's tears, the normally cold dessert will initially be available in two flavours, acid indigestion and butler's revenge and will go on sale in specially designed tubs made from the skins of of orangoutangs, bearing the legend "Say goodbye to frozen tongue misery".

BRIANSTORM

Storm Brian battered Britain last weekend, bringing chaos to many towns and cities. In Hastings, the 300 mph winds caused the bell tower to be completely blown off St Botolph's Episcopal Chapel of the Seven Dwarves of Galilee, which then slid into the sea, prompting the launch of the lifeboat. The brave lifeboatmen stayed out for several hours, until one of them heard the muffled ringing of an underwater bell, which led them to the missing tower. When it was finally recovered, the famous St. Botolph's bellringing team was discovered huddled inside, wet but unharmed. "We just sang the chorus of For Rose and Beryl By The Sea and kept pulling on the rope until help arrived." said head bellringer Ralph Corncrake. "Those men deserve a medal".

Sausage Life!