Sunday, Lovely Sunday

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Describe the perfect Sunday.

I wake up in a five-star hotel room with the Hub.

Breakfast is served.

I buy loads of cheap crap from a car boot sale then go to church.

Lunch is served.

The dogs are presented to me, bathed, brushed and walked.

My children bring me expensive gifts.

The Hub, looking at me, doesn’t notice when Demi Moore accidentally brushes past him.

Dinner is served.

I read all the Harry Potter books, having forgotten them first eight times around, so it’s like the first time.

Jean-Luc Picard takes me to the Globe Theatre where it doesn’t rain during the performance of Richard II.

Supper is served.

I retire to my five-star hotel room, where a maid has packed my things, including the free toiletries and a complimentary toilet roll.

I have no trouble falling asleep; I don’t snore; the Hub doesn’t accidentally push me out of bed when trying to prod me into rolling over.

*

The perfect Sunday in three words: Food is served.

If Wishing Made It So

Describe the perfect sandwich.

Will Smith.Me.BradPitt.

What?  It could happen…

Joke 208

A man took his dog to the vet. 

“My dog is cross-eyed; is there anything you can do for him?” he asked.

“Well,” said the vet, “let’s take a look at him.”  He picked the dog up and examined his eyes, then checked his teeth.  Finally he said, “I’m going to have to put him down.”

“What?” asked the distraught man.  “Because he’s cross-eyed?”

“No,” replied the vet, “because he’s really heavy.”