Mank, part XXXVII
The last time I went to Weymouth rubbish tip I “rescued” a DVD from a skip which turn out to be a low-budget art-house movie going by the name Granny’s Cumming II. I’ve still got it – along with a copy of the sub-scud classic Flesh Gordon – if anyone cares to make me an offer.
Still, my return to the Venue of Filth, couldn’t be any worse, could it? Yes.
The lady in front of me was from one of Weymouth’s many hotels, and she was dumping a large box (and I quote, because she insisted on telling everybody) of “out of date tins my husband found in a store room”.
And indeed, there were quite a lot of tins, dozens of them, many of which appeared to have been part of Second World War aid parcels. One of them appeared to be leaking red stuff, while another may or may not have had a tree growing out of it. Into the skip they went, and lady left, well pleased with herself. However...
Rubbish Tip Bloke’s prerogative: First dibs on anything that goes onto the pile.
As soon as she’s gone: “Oi’m ‘avin’ that. It’s me dinner tonight.”
My rubbish contained – amongst other things – a large quantity hound-flavoured chocolate surprise, scrapings from the dog run in our back garden. Heaven knows what happened to that.
At last, the return of the vote-o
Oh go on, seeing as absolutely nobody complained - vote on these following for stories of mirth, woe and mank. All come with health warnings in line with new European regulations:
* Foot in Mouth - may contain traces of feet. And mouths
* Hawk - may contain traces of vicious pecky birds
* Shed - may contain traces of outhouses
* Party II - may contain traces of getting down funky style
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