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Situation: Determined to make one's way in the world; as governess, with unruly charges; a good impression is necessary.
Attitude: Practical.
Solution: Administer laudanum. |
| etiquette archive |
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Sir:
I forget why exactly, but I've spent practically my whole life driving, and consequently tend to notice things other road users may miss. For example, the moment I turn off from a major road, I can be sure of seeing a hand-painted sign: "Pallets wanted." The curiousness of these signs has always struck me. For one thing, you never see signs saying, "Roof felt wanted," or, "Investment bonds wanted"; only pallets. For another, the sheer number, and semantic ambiguity, of these signs must mean that either people regularly find themselves with large stacks of pallets they no longer want - so regularly, in fact, that nailing up a "Pallets wanted" sign guarantees custom for what we must assume are wholesale agents - or that an undefined percentage of the population is quite willing to pay for a pallet, but there exists no retail outlet, so their only resource is to erect a sign in the hope of attracting one of the nomadic pallet sellers who constantly wander the country. Thanks to my camera timer, I have photographs of myself standing by every one of these signs I've seen since 1983, if you would like to work this up into a feature for your magazine. |
Buchanan Raspberry
Blackgang Chine |
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| letters from the editor archive |
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Bill to Expose the Creeping and Sinister Corruption of Certain Members of the House Who Are Known to Me in Their Dealings With Magnates, Potenates and the Fates at the Expense of the BRITON'S INGLEMAN in Whose Interests They are Charged to Work By Her Gracious Majesty introduced by the Rt Hon Grably Crockbester (Prog Soc), Member for Dog Dyke.
(Proposal lapsed following the tragic death of the Rt Hon Gentleman when his valet exploded.) |
| the bill before the house archive |
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The BRITON'S SCIENCE has shewn that The Weekly, the magazine which strives to maintain Britain's standards, has topped* one million readers since 1871.
"I'd like to thank my staff of seven writers who... check... my spelling and do nothing else," said MR MILLINGTON of this mathematically inevitable achievement.
MR NASH added: "I'd like to thank all those talented artists we've been waiting for to die."
* Though not, of course, in the sense of assassination. The Weekly has had cause to assassinate no more than a carriage's-worth of readers. |
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Sup from the issue broth with the random ladle. New issue every time, subject to blind unfavouring chance. |
| feature archive |
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| Good Evening |
| Might I trouble you for a glass of water? |
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Only my wife is alight. |
| hurrah/bah archive |
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| This chap's purchased an OFFICIAL THE WEEKLY T-SHAPED SHIRT and now he's working off his shame at indulging in such wasteful extravagance. You too may display similar penitence, and perhaps press hot coins guiltily into the hands of a stooped clerk for a copy of MR MILLINGTON's improving books Things About Which My Girlfriend And I Have Argued, A Certain Chemistry, Love and Other Near-Death Experiences and Instructions For Living Someone Else's Life, by patronising the The Weekly Corner Shop corner shop. Items despatched under plain wrapper, school-boys will be chased from the premises with a broom. |
| corner shop |
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Game: Lionel-Pop!
Played chiefly in: Damage Barton.
Objective: Discovery of appointed "Lionel Stander."
Obstacles: Blindfolded; other players gargle hoarsely as decoys.
Rating: Well above stand"e"rd. |
| heritage of games archive |
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