Stealing stories

You may have noticed that nothing new of interest has happened to me this week. So, I'll have to stoop to one of my oldest tricks and just nick someone else's story. However, I'll refrain from representing it as my own, fully embellished. See how I've grown.

Anyway, Anne was at WI the other night - plainly not much new of interest in her week either. She had to give a talk on her day at the annual National WI Conference. Apparently this went down very well. No-one fell asleep, or died even, and most managed through the whole speech without having to nip outside and top-up their HRT patch. Afterwards several people congratulated her on talk.

One of them said: "Oh, Anne, that was an excellent speech. I heard nearly all of it."





Dinner Parties, My Wife, and Me

For many a year my wife has been wit-wary;
Since that joke about her and Sharlene Spiteri.

At dinner parties in the nineties I used to tell tales;
Tall stories, shaggy ones, ones as big as my head.
Ones I'd robbed and given a shine;
Added knobs and made out were mine.
But she began to cut in halfway through,
And cruelly take the wind from my sails:
“Not again, dear, we've heard that one before.”
Or “That's an old one darling, and not even yours.”
Or “He's not funny, don't encourage him,
Unless it's to get a proper job, and earn some money.”

All well aimed blows to the solar plexus, just because
Of some joke about her and a girl from Texas.



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