Mrs. Betty Pench was playing the trombone when she heard a knock on the door. "I wonder who that is at 11 o'clock in the morning?" she thought, and cautiously opened the door. Instead of the turbaned ruffian she expected she found a very nice young man. "Mrs. Pench, you've won the car contest, would you like a Triumph Spitfire or three thousand in cash?" She smiled. Mrs. Pench took the money. "What will you do with it all, not that it's any of my business?", he giggled. "I think I'll become an alchoholic", said Betty.
With a geranium behind each ear and his face painted with gay cabalistic symbols, 6-foot-8, 17-stone Police Sergeant Geoff Bull looked jolly convincing as he sweated and grunted through a vigorous twust routine at the Frug-A-Go-Go Beer Keller. His hot serge trousers flapped wildly over his enormous plastic sandals as he jumped and jumped and gyrated towards a long-haired man. "Er, excuse me, man, I have reason to believe you can turn me on", he leered suggestively. As if my magic dozens of truncheons appeared and mercilessly thrashed him. Poor Geoff, what a turn-up for the books.
Much as he hated argument or any kind of unpleasantness, Ron Shirt thought things had gone too far when, returning from a weekend in Clacton, he found that his neighbour had trimmed the enormous hedge dividing their gardens into the shape of a human leg. Enraged and envious beyond belief, Ron seized his garden shears and clipped his white poodle Leo into a coffee table. "That'll fix it", thought Ron, but he was wrong. The following Wednesday his neighbour had his bushy waist-length hair cut and permed into a model of the Queen Elizabeth and went sailing. Everywhere he went people said "hooray!" Sometimes you just can't win.