I have tasked myself to create one of these per week. I allow exactly 50 words.
Gus Guller, surveying the possessions of the late Mrs Burford, spotted the genuine Lowery painting. ‘A worthless copy’ he told her naïve nephew, ‘I’ll give you £5 for the frame.’
He went upstairs inspecting,
Gus returned, the nephew handed him the frame.
‘Where’s the picture?’
‘Back garden, on the bonfire.’
The wife went to pick up the prescriptions yesterday. ‘Bring me something for a sandwich,’ I told her.
Back home, she made me a sandwich.
I took one bite and spit it out ‘Good God woman, what’s this?’
‘Crabs paste’ she said, ‘it was on special offer at the chemists.’
A Word of Warning
I saw grumpy old Fred approaching, I can’t stand him, so I crossed the road.
He saw me avoiding him. ‘Dog’ he yelled, his brolly pointing.
‘Pig’ I screamed back at him, brandishing my walking stick.
That was the moment before this Rottweiler sank its fangs into my arse.
The Wigan Treasure Hunt
Participants were handed a clue sheet: “Look for a rook on a dock”. Everybody dashed to Wigan Pier.
‘Found it old George said, pointing to a small statue.
‘That’s a duck on a rock,’ said his Missus.
‘Look at the clue setter’s name.’ said George.
‘WA Spooner? Oh, Clever you.’
A Wash and Brush up
I told the doctor about my haemorrhoids.
‘They itch something awful, doctor.’
‘How are you treating them at present?’ he asked.
‘I scrub them vigorously with a toothbrush.’
‘Not the brush you clean your teeth with, I hope?’
‘Of course not,’ I said, my indignation flaring, ‘I use the wife’s.’