Wednesday, 1 September 2004

It wasn't me

Disclaimer. This wasn't my thought originally, but I paid my money to go and listen to it at a stand-up gig in Edinburgh, so I feel justified in sharing it here and taking some credit for its wit. At least I made the subconscious effort to remember it. (Although as I write this, I can't remember.) Oh yes, I think this was it. My mental note got smudged when I was doing the dishes, so I can't quite make it out. You know, one of those things when you have to go back into the room where you had the original thought in order to recover it; only I've been sitting here the whole time.

Why are there so many homeless Scotsmen in the south of England, especially London? I've come across a number of them here in Oxford. How proud they do their country! What fine specimens of humanity! What an urge one gets to shout at them, "Get back tae King's Cross!" Kinda like the urge you get, whenever you meet an Aussie, to yell, "Hey, what are you doing here? Get back behind the bar!"

And another thing. Why are there so many retards working in supermarkets? There's this one guy at Sainsbury's who looks like he still lives with his mum. He could be a cousin of Larkin's. All he ever seems to do is collect the empty baskets from the check-outs and take them back to the pile at the door. I don't think he's capable of any more. Don't you sometimes get the urge to spill some milk from the shelf on purpose, just to see what kind of freak they send out to clean it up? No? Well, I guess St Peter will let you through then.

It must be the way I tell 'em.

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