Hair Woe
She: "Where have you been?"
Me: "Washing my hair."
"I hope you weren't using my shampoo."
"As if I would. I used that new stuff on the window sill."
"Which one?"
"Primrose oil. The one with a picture of a golden retriever on the label and ...oh..."
"You do realise that's dog shampoo, don't you?"
"Woof."
Call me Cujo.
A Postcard for Tony Blair
I swore I wouldn't engage in low-level politicking over the SE Asia tragedy, there are times you've just got to say something.
Dear Mr Blair,
I hope you enjoyed your Christmas holiday. There are millions who didn't.
I also hope you found your visit to Egypt (your second this year, you must really love the place!) a pleasurable experience. So pleasurable, in fact, you found yourself unable to tear yourself away for the best part of a week as the worst natural disaster in living memory unfolded in front of the disbelieving eyes of the world community.
You may have noticed (and I'm certain your hotel has your friend Mr Murdoch's Sky News, or if you were really desperate, BBC World) that the country pulled together perfectly well without you in a show of multi-faith, multi-cultural unity that puts your government to shame.
Please find enclosed a freshly-laid turd, because, unlike you, I actually give a shit.
Yours, A Voter.
Send money.
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