The column which believes that hugs and squeezes spread diseases

MYSELF: A-tishooo!
READER: Stay where you are! I’m a police officer! Just put the gun down and hold your hands out where I can see them!
MYSELF:  Aren’t you overreacting? I only sneezed.
READER: This is a public emergency! Don’t you listen to Facebook?  Where’s your mask anyway?
MYSELF: I’m saving it for an armed robbery, after anarchy breaks out.


THE BIG FIGHT
Public pressure is mounting on Boris Johnson’s boss Dominic Cummings to bestow a knighthood on new ABA (south) champ Typhoon Anger, following his momentous comeback victory over previously undefeated US knockout specialist Joe “Palooka” Lazarus. We spoke to Anger Management’s supremo Ron Maserati, who was in no mood for debate. “If a big sissy like Elton John can get a sir in front of his name, how come my boy, a beloved National Treasure who is twice as hard as The Times Crossword, who has punched more faces than the so-called Rocket Man has had hot dinners, is still only Mister Anger? You couldn’t make it up!” Maserati grabbed a bottle of champagne and hustled me into a corner, where he revealed that the Autumn 2020 rematch with Lazarus has now been postponed. “They say it’s because of public health issues but let’s face it,” he crowed, uncorking the bottle and lighting a cigar, “my boy is the champ and Palooka is running scared. Typhoon’s strategy was faultless. He was an accident waiting for someone to happen to. He was like a jaguar pursuing a herd of gazelle in round one, and then in round two, like a furious African bull-elephant whose mother has been shot by a rich American tourist. Typhoon’s devastating left hook in round three, which was like being hit by a concert grand piano swinging from a demolition crane, has obviously knocked some sense into him. Lazarus is just a big girl’s cream bun. If he wants the quiet life, he should give up the fight game and take up tiddlywinks or snakes and ladders. Once my boy has got his knighthood he’s going to be unstoppable. Have you heard him sing? Sinatra would die for a personality as magnetic as Typhoon’s, if he wasn’t already dead.” Questioned about the rumoured cancellation, a spokesman acting on behalf of Lazarus’s agents, Smashyourfacein Entertainments issued this statement: “Although Mister Anger was awarded the fight by the ringside judges, we will be appealing that decision on the basis that we do not agree with it. It was a fix. Lazarus was clearly the winner. The officials were blatantly biased in favour of the sluggish, inferior and frankly, lardy Anger. Joe’s footwork was like two supercharged fairground dodgems driven by Lewis Hamilton, but his normally unstoppable body punches were simply absorbed by Anger’s abdominal flab. It was like plumping up a cushion Our boy was docked points even before the bout commenced, after refusing to remove the terrifying Japanese Noh mask, which he wears to frighten his opponents. This made him so upset that he didn’t see the effeminate, glancing upper-cut that barely scraped his jaw in round three, which the referee cruelly interpreted as a knockout. Boxing has got to clean up its act. Only after Joe (hopefully) comes out of his coma, will we find out what really happened.”   


GOING VIRAL
Infection-stricken Caribbean cruise ship Muchas Quarantinos, marooned in the Sargasso Sea since an outbreak of Caramba Virus, is running out of paté. Morsecode messages intercept-ed from the doomed liner ind-icate that some passengers have resorted to cannibalism after rumours that Swedish Captain, Lars Vondervondervonder, had stockpiled all the remaining foie gras in his cabin and was refusing to come out. The Caramba Virus (NoraBati-19), is thought to have been carried aboard by Rupert Nambipambi, an entertainments officer who had kissed an infected pangolin during a recent stop-off in Caracas. 


EVE’S DROPPINGS
I swear I overheard this conversation in a pub last week 
“There’s nothing migrates like an anchovy.”
“And only a foolish man waits for a Bombay Potato.”
“Fair play. One pie at night, two pies in the morning.”
“Quite so, how true… the right stick is worth a million poles.”
“A wise goat eats no carrots. That’s what I always say.” 
“And when the bells toll, the cows relax.” 
The gulf of self-reflective silence that followed was broken by the synchronised draining of glasses. 
“The only way to prevent seasickness is to sit under a tree.” 
“I couldn’t agree more.
Same again?”


LETTERS 
Due to public health concerns, we have been asked to keep exchanges brief. In reply to Mrs. Beatrice Rasputin of Lilliputtenden, the Robust reinforced bra was developed by Royal Navy engineers for the 1948 Olympic Games. It was first used by the legendary British gold medal-winning ladies coxless fours and later adopted by Hollywood sex-siren Jane Russell.

Ralph Trubshaw, a retired juggler from Upper Dicker, wants to know if Australians stir their tea anti-clockwise. Ralph, the simple answer is I don’t know, and I don’t care.

Sausage Life!


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