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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.
"What? What? You'll have to speak up, I'm in a helicopter. The which? I thought I'd sold my shares in that months ago to finance my laundry," said MR MILLINGTON of this mathematically inevitable achievement.
MR NASH added: "And remember, readers, we couldn't have done it without you. Well, we could have, but it would have taken longer."
* Though not, of course, in the sense of assassination. The Weekly has had cause to assassinate no more than two hundred readers. |
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Sup from the issue broth with the random ladle. New issue every time, subject to blind unfavouring chance. |
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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. |
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Position: Cartographer.
Responsibilities: Empire! The very word thrills the soul of even the lowliest pauper whose soul is destined to burn in the fires of hell for all eternity. Yet there is much we know not of the farthest flings of Her Gracious Majesty's dominions, and it is in this vacuum of knowledge that a shrewd and ambitious cartographer may yet stamp his mark. A cartographer of hardy constitution, iron nerve and sharpened pencil can contribute much to our understanding of such exotic and ill-explored regions as Scot-land and the Northern Poor-towns. These last frontiers of human endurance must be conquered by the courageous cartographer, irrespective of disease, hardship and weirdly ritualled anthropophagous natives so that one day our bright-eyed, cow-licked school-children may learn as much about these distant climes as they understand of Darkest Africa and the Canadian Wastes.
Remuneration: A piffling stipend of £13 is provided to furnish the initial expeditionary force, but it is understood that the cartographer lives off the land mapped. You are entitled to a generous percentage of any gold and precious ores discovered in the name of Britain, and the opportunity cannot fail to excite of meeting and cataloguing mysterious new peoples; and of the gentleman-cartographer improving their rude shapes with the BRITON'S GENES or the lady-cartographer establishing a fine and profitable seraglio against her retirement.
Risk assessment: Little is riskier than the post of cartographer when much of the world is as wild as the caving-tenements of Bolton or the Border-lands of Wales; but the wise cartographer goes well-armed with machete and Webley (and, indeed, there is much sport to be had in this manner when work is ceased for the day); and is content that all cartographers are immortalised in the name of at least one town, usually the one around which ultimately they are strewn.
Prospects: Scientist; soup; Cartographer of the Cities of Mars when that expedition is launched in the next eight months or so. |
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| Remain UP-TO-DATE and KEENLY ABREAST with a subscription to BRITAIN'S ADVOCATE OF QUALITIES. You will receive notification by e-mail of forthcoming issues of the magazine which inspires Britons everywhere to forge ahead to a better newness. Alternatively, sub down from the list in weary satiety. |
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