Stairlift to Heaven by Terry Ravenscroft Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Terry Ravenscroft
care so long as you buy a hundred onion sets or a bag of early cropping seed potatoes.
Similarly you might suppose that the deaf aid company, having wrongly received an order for four dozen daffodil bulbs, would see to it that the order reached its correct destination. After all there is a good chance that the man who sent the order is deaf, so you wouldn’t expect them to knowingly withhold from him the joy of seeing his daffodils blossom come next spring even if he’ll never have the pleasure of hearing them gently rustling in the breeze. But again, no.
It isn’t just the plant catalogue and deaf aid companies that are so cold and uncaring; since I started doing it I must have sent at least a couple of dozen orders to the wrong address and I have yet to hear so much as a whisper from any of them. Seemingly there is zero liaison between companies, who are apparently only interested in selling their own goods. Well cut my legs off and call me Shorty!
I have yet to meet the person who likes receiving junk mail, so with this in mind here’s a thought - why not take a leaf out of my book and do as I do? There’s no need to go to the trouble of swapping over the contents of the envelopes - although it is very satisfying and can be highly recommended - just send the empty pre-paid envelope back. If everyone were to do this there would be no junk mail at all after about twelve months. Bliss.
****
February 14 2007. MY FUNNY VALENTINE.
Every time Valentine's Day comes around with it comes messages of undying love from couples so besotted with each other that they seemingly don't mind calling their partner, and being called by their partner, the most ludicrous names.
A brief look through the columns of just one of the three pages my newspaper devoted to these missives of love revealed all the usual suspects. Honeypots and Honeybuns abounded, as did Sweetpeas and Cheekychops. Gladiator, Spartacus and Hercules represented both the historical and film worlds. Popeye, Goofy and Cartman the world of cartoons. The Animal Kingdom fetched up with a Squirrel Nutkins, seven Tigers, two Piggywiggies, a Lion, a Wilderbeast (sic), a Slimy Slug (sick), a Dobbin, a Mr Toad, the twosome of Mr Leghorn & Broodyboos and an Eager Beaver (although as this was a woman it could of course have referred not to an animal but something else). We also had, unfathomably, a Mr Sock, and a Huggy Buggy, The Perminator (must be a hairdresser), a Tubbyblubbyhubby, and the inspired pairing of Janey Fatbum & Spanker, which sounds to me like a match made in heaven. I'll draw a veil over the homosexual fraternity, other than to say that they were well represented, and I thought that the partnership of Jimmy Tightbum and Dyna Rod to be almost as well-matched as that of Janey Fatbum and Spanker.
Why do people call each other such names? More to the point, how can they call each other names like this? And is it only in the privacy of their own love nests, or do they refer to each other in this manner when they're out, and in company? “So that's a pint of bitter for me, a gin and tonic for Squidgypots, a pint of lager for Toddy Tiddler, a bacardi breezer for Minxy Moo, a scotch for Bunny Wunny Wabbit and a slimline tonic for Fatarse.”
It all reminds me of a sketch I once wrote for my radio series Star Terk Two, in the eighties.
A NEWSAGENTS SHOP. DAVE WALKS UP TO THE COUNTER WHERE THE NEWSAGENT IS SERVING.
DAVE: Could I put a Valentine’s Day message in next week’s Advertiser, please?
NEWSAGENT: Of course. What would you like to say?
DAVE: ‘To my darling Jenny, lots of love, Dave.
NEWSAGENT: (WRITES IT DOWN) ‘To my darling Jennypoos, lots….’
DAVE: Jenny.
NEWSAGENT: What?
DAVE: Just ‘Jenny'.
NEWSAGENT: No ‘poos’?
DAVE: No.
NEWSAGENT: It isn’t any extra.
DAVE: I don’t want a ‘poos’, thank you.
NEWSAGENT: Suit yourself. (WRITES IT DOWN) ‘To my darling Jenny, lots of love, Davey Wavey.
DAVE:
Similarly you might suppose that the deaf aid company, having wrongly received an order for four dozen daffodil bulbs, would see to it that the order reached its correct destination. After all there is a good chance that the man who sent the order is deaf, so you wouldn’t expect them to knowingly withhold from him the joy of seeing his daffodils blossom come next spring even if he’ll never have the pleasure of hearing them gently rustling in the breeze. But again, no.
It isn’t just the plant catalogue and deaf aid companies that are so cold and uncaring; since I started doing it I must have sent at least a couple of dozen orders to the wrong address and I have yet to hear so much as a whisper from any of them. Seemingly there is zero liaison between companies, who are apparently only interested in selling their own goods. Well cut my legs off and call me Shorty!
I have yet to meet the person who likes receiving junk mail, so with this in mind here’s a thought - why not take a leaf out of my book and do as I do? There’s no need to go to the trouble of swapping over the contents of the envelopes - although it is very satisfying and can be highly recommended - just send the empty pre-paid envelope back. If everyone were to do this there would be no junk mail at all after about twelve months. Bliss.
****
February 14 2007. MY FUNNY VALENTINE.
Every time Valentine's Day comes around with it comes messages of undying love from couples so besotted with each other that they seemingly don't mind calling their partner, and being called by their partner, the most ludicrous names.
A brief look through the columns of just one of the three pages my newspaper devoted to these missives of love revealed all the usual suspects. Honeypots and Honeybuns abounded, as did Sweetpeas and Cheekychops. Gladiator, Spartacus and Hercules represented both the historical and film worlds. Popeye, Goofy and Cartman the world of cartoons. The Animal Kingdom fetched up with a Squirrel Nutkins, seven Tigers, two Piggywiggies, a Lion, a Wilderbeast (sic), a Slimy Slug (sick), a Dobbin, a Mr Toad, the twosome of Mr Leghorn & Broodyboos and an Eager Beaver (although as this was a woman it could of course have referred not to an animal but something else). We also had, unfathomably, a Mr Sock, and a Huggy Buggy, The Perminator (must be a hairdresser), a Tubbyblubbyhubby, and the inspired pairing of Janey Fatbum & Spanker, which sounds to me like a match made in heaven. I'll draw a veil over the homosexual fraternity, other than to say that they were well represented, and I thought that the partnership of Jimmy Tightbum and Dyna Rod to be almost as well-matched as that of Janey Fatbum and Spanker.
Why do people call each other such names? More to the point, how can they call each other names like this? And is it only in the privacy of their own love nests, or do they refer to each other in this manner when they're out, and in company? “So that's a pint of bitter for me, a gin and tonic for Squidgypots, a pint of lager for Toddy Tiddler, a bacardi breezer for Minxy Moo, a scotch for Bunny Wunny Wabbit and a slimline tonic for Fatarse.”
It all reminds me of a sketch I once wrote for my radio series Star Terk Two, in the eighties.
A NEWSAGENTS SHOP. DAVE WALKS UP TO THE COUNTER WHERE THE NEWSAGENT IS SERVING.
DAVE: Could I put a Valentine’s Day message in next week’s Advertiser, please?
NEWSAGENT: Of course. What would you like to say?
DAVE: ‘To my darling Jenny, lots of love, Dave.
NEWSAGENT: (WRITES IT DOWN) ‘To my darling Jennypoos, lots….’
DAVE: Jenny.
NEWSAGENT: What?
DAVE: Just ‘Jenny'.
NEWSAGENT: No ‘poos’?
DAVE: No.
NEWSAGENT: It isn’t any extra.
DAVE: I don’t want a ‘poos’, thank you.
NEWSAGENT: Suit yourself. (WRITES IT DOWN) ‘To my darling Jenny, lots of love, Davey Wavey.
DAVE:
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