A Letter From The Editor
Dear Subscribers,
Today you have received two Joke 182 emails. This is not due to a technical hitch or over-enthusiasm on the part of WordPress or because the moon is in the seventh house.
It is because I am a dopey mare. I forgot to check my scheduled posts last night before preparing today’s joke.
You may also have received two other posts from my drafts. Please ignore. I have had four hours’ sleep and my brain has forgotten how to operate a blog. [I had just typed that last sentence when I noticed a new email had come in; it is from Pun of the Day and I swear this is the actual joke: Sleeping comes so naturally to me, I could do it with my eyes closed.]
Apologies for two jokes; apologies for two posts sent in error; apologies that this is the fifth email you have received from me today; apologies that for some of you, it’s more.
The Management take such matters seriously so be assured I will punish myself by…took me a while to think of something, I nodded off; but here it is – and it’s about as painful a punishment as I’ll ever get:
I will post this post with all errors still in place. No proofreading. No editing. No checking for mistakes three times, go to the toilet, three times more.
I don’t think punishments come harsher than that, do you?
Yours truly,
Dopey Mare.
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What’s In A Name? Mother Is Not Impressed
Last week a number of you voted on Tory Boy’s new name, having first suggested them all. From this I learned:
- My readers do not always have the courage of their convictions – eight of the suggested names received no votes, not even from their suggesters.
- You like polls. No one voted for Another poll? Do you think I have time to waste reading all the options? I could be slumped in front of the tv.
- 23% of you dislike change. Wait until your purse is permanently empty and then tell me you dislike it: there is no sight so beautiful as a handful of coppers when you’re nine pence short of the price of milk.
- My son is an idiot.
It was Tory Boy who suggested a name change in the first place. It was Tory Boy who suggested asking my readers to come up with his new name. It was Tory Boy who voted for Tory Boy.
More apologies, therefore, for wasting your time with a redundant poll: Tory Boy remains Tory Boy. My new name is Rollinmyeyesindespair.
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The Sky Is Falling! The Sky Is Falling!
A satellite is due to fall on our heads tomorrow. Time to buy a hat. Or 26 hats, to be precise: according to The Huffington Post:
An estimated 26 pieces – representing 1,200 pounds – are expected to survive.
But don’t worry:
re-entry will occur over the Pacific late Friday afternoon, Eastern Time. But that’s give or take 14 hours.
I’m no scientist, or even good at maths, but isn’t fourteen hours more than enough time to cross the Pacific in a rowing boat, never mind a whacking great chunk of metal hurtling through gravity?
Maybe a bowler hat?
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I Did Not Have Punctual Relations With That Exclamation Mark…Semi-Colon
I tried; I really did. But the addiction has gone too deep with me: I confess…I proofed this post; and then I proofed it some more. I guess I’ll have to give up Maltesers for the day instead.
Don’t be impressed; it won’t be that difficult: I don’t have any in the house at the moment.
Looks like I can’t give up honesty, either.
On a related point, thank you to everyone who told me to ignore that spam fiend, Helen Keller. I appreciate the support, I really do. Now I have to go back to Writing School to re-take the Make It Absolutely Clear Your Tongue Is Firmly In Your Cheek class that I failed last year.
I have the best readers in the blogosphere.
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