We made a silly and tasteless joke on Facebook, we we got sent to Facebook Jail, and – frankly – we deserved it.
So, here’s the best stories from the last few days plus a couple from the archives to tide you over.
And Spotter’s Badge if you know where the title of today’s post is from.
She’s got a point.
How can she enjoy her expanse of gravel, with a path up to the breeze-block wall while overlooked by those monstrosities?
Somerset Live (from 2017): Probe launched into Churchill Anus Society minibus
If there’s one thing you don’t want to happen, it’s a probe getting launched into your anus society.
It’s a (oh-ho!) BUM RAP!!!!!!
Don’t worry, pal. There are loads of once in a lifetime experiences for you to miss coming up.
Life’s shit like that.
(Your author, an Arsenal fan, sold his ticket to Liverpool vs Arsenal on Friday 26th May 1989 because his boss, a Manchester United fan, refused to give him the day off work. That was the night Arsenal scored an injury time winner to take the Football League title for the first time in 18 years, and also the day our work Trade Union had an all-out-comrades strike over a 16% pay claim, so I could have gone after all. I have missed many other once in a lifetime experiences since. Life’s shit like that)
The Lincolnite: Woman vows to boycott Sainsbury’s over rotten food delivery
I can’t see the problem here, they offered her a full refund on the one clove of garlic and one carrot that were both looking a bit worse for wear, and that’s more generous.
What she’s going to splash that extra 24p on is anybody’s guess.
About three seconds of electricity at the current rate.
Gloucestershire Live: Small child put in charge of pointing as pothole appears in Cheltenham street
As regular readers of this nonsense will tell you, we consider Cheltenham to be living under some sort of ancient curse that renders the town reeling with calamity after calamity.
It’s a smart move putting a kid in charge of the pointing because the foul creatures emerging from the underworld are only interested in adults.
“We’re foul creatures emerging from the underworld, but we’re not barbarians,” a foul creature emerging from the underworld said.
Newcastle Chronicle: Anti-bollard campaigner dresses as a bollard in bid to get bollard removed
Disguise yourself as a bollard, get among them, find out what they’re up to and what they’re planning. And when you’ve got that down on your little blue clipboard, reveal your true form (a grown man who probably gets a vote to choose our next Prime Minister) and watch those bollardy gits TREMBLE.
Our friends at the World Bollard Association would like to remind readers of the stiff penalties for impersonating a bollard, up to and including up to 12 hours in a council bollard depot, asking to be let out.
An early example of the DONE A POO pose from one of Kentish Town’s best-known residents.
Note also the popped collar polo shirt and the flip-flops, the sign of a man comfortable with his Angry People in Local Newspapers game.
Yeah, get out of THAT, Sadiq Khan and your evil plan to reduce pollution and its associated health risks in the capital.
Not so clever now David here’s found an enormously inconvenient loophole which means he has to either sell his twenty-year-old high-emission car, or only drive it around Watford, far away from the ULEZ charge and also far away from where he lives.
It could happen to any one of us.
One day, you’re giving a lift to your favourite middle-of-the-road chicken-in-a-basket cruise singer, and the next thing you know she’s got herself trapped in your CD player.
I might go and actually read the story now.
And we’ll end, as usual, with a lovely bit of local newspaper poetry.
We love the way that it just runs out of steam at the end with the implication that the reader should just go out and buy a Freddo.
Don’t have nightmares.
No, really, I saw this at a car boot sale today, and don’t have nightmares.
I repeat the comments from our previous roundup in relation to an enormously cursed doll.
“Is this head cursed?”
“Then why are you selling it?”
Don’t have nightmares.