Or gazing at willies?

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Photo by Charles Deluvio on Unsplash

If you want to talk speed-dating, this programme got right to the bottom of it, so to speak.

We’d just finished watching a recorded film: Sparkling Cyanide. A little lacklustre, if you ask me. I stopped the film at the end, so the TV switched automatically to normal channels — and what did we see?

A line-up of blokes’ willies.

I kid you not. Someone has set up a dating programme in which the woman has to choose a man based on his bits.

The men were behind screens for their top halves, but the bottoms were exposed — a bit like an upside-down barn door. All you could see was a row of six or seven men, their willies, scrotums and legs. Didn’t get to see much more because my husband kept yelling, “Turn it off, turn it off.” …


…brooch, ring or ghostly granny?

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Photo by alpay tonga on Unsplash

​They’re grim. Nobody enjoys them — except perhaps the Irish who like to make a party of the whole thing — lots of Guinness and sausage rolls. But still, there’s a corpse lying on a table in the middle of the room. Has to take some of the humor out of it.

I’ve seen dead bodies. Bound to have at my age. The first was my Mum. She died in her sleep at the relatively young age of 68 and was buried in the local graveyard. What I remember most about that day was seeing the cold, dark hole she was going to be lowered into. It made me shudder. …


What century would you like to have been born in?

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Photo by Krzysztof Kowalik on Unsplash

I was born in the 20th century, which didn’t have a great start with Suffragettes having to fight for the right to vote, industrialisation polluting the atmosphere and two horrendous World Wars.

By the time I arrived, the prospect was a little brighter — Moon Landings, colour TV and The Beatles.

But if I’d had the choice, I’d like to have been born in the Middle Ages, some time around 1300 to 1350 AD.

What? Are you crazy?

Yes, I know. That was a terrible period of history. The Black Death or Bubonic Plague raged through Europe; ordinary folk were poor and hungry with a short lifespan; lack of scientific thought led to superstition and fears of witchcraft; no books, no career prospects and little protection from thieves and murderers. Houses were rough huts — one room shared with goat, hen and pig. …


What are we supposed to eat?

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Photo by Nonsap Visuals on Unsplash

What is this — what, are you mad?
Using salt? No — salt is bad.

Sugar? Now, what are you thinking?
Sugar’s deadly — and you’re drinking

Coca Cola. Holy smoke.
Never catch me guzzling coke

All I drink is filtered water
and the other day, I bought a

juicer — you’ve not lived until
you’ve had beetroot juice and krill,

seaweed smoothie, olive oil,
veg grown in organic soil,

no, I never eat red meat
though it’s not as bad as wheat.

Funny, though — we’re all obese,
eating less, avoiding grease,

doing workouts at the gym -
nothing seems to make us slim. …


Why does it take them so long?

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image courtesy of Pixabay

Woke up this morning, and what did I find?
My fridge was empty — no beer no wine.
I felt in my pockets and found fifty p -
Not even enough for a nice cup of tea.

I pulled on my coat and strolled into town
To get some money — say twenty pounds
And when I arrived at the ATM
Two women were there — I stood behind them.

One stuck her card in, then messed with her hat,
Put in her PIN code — paused for a chat.
A queue behind me began to form. …


including some weird ones

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Photo by Lynda Hinton on Unsplash

Christmas hasn’t always been celebrated. At one point, Oliver Cromwell condemned it saying it was too decadent.

Since the Middle Ages, Christmas has been seen as a merry time with holly and ivy decorating people’s houses, carols, plum pudding, drinking and general merriment until Twelfth Night.

It was 1649 and Cromwell, having won the Civil War and seen King Charles I beheaded, now began setting the country straight. He was a Puritan and they were anti-fun. Singing, he said, was sinful — so carols were banned.

Festivities, food and drink and all that happiness was sinful too. …


philandering isn’t cool

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Photo by Daniel Jensen on Unsplash

I would come home for Christmas
if I were still alive,
materialise before your eyes
and turn up in your drive.

I loved you, dearest Eddie,
I thought you loved me too,
but there you were with saucy Fleur
your glasses all askew.

You said that it meant nothing
when I caught you with Jane,
and then with Wend, my dearest friend,
it drove me quite insane.

Last Christmas Eve we argued,
a bitter, jealous fight,
and in our car — the Jaguar
I drove into the night.

The roads were cold and icy
and also, I’d been drinking,
I hit the brake, slid in the lake
found I was slowly sinking. …

About

Laura Sheridan

I write to entertain, explain…and leave a tickle of laughter in your brain.

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