Clique

Did I, like, miss a memo?

Island

Though he played big and tough with this mates, Jeremy just couldn't cope with Sophie's Wednesday night bingo.

What Ever Happened To The British Summer?

So, there I was, reading my good friend and oft partner-in-crime Mr Owen Jones' blog when I stumbled across a fun little story he'd written entitled "The Boy who Stole the Sun".

Whilst reading and chuckling at his witty tale of explanation as to why we've had another catastrophic summer weather-wise I began to thumbnail the story as if it was a picture book.

Here it is in all it's scribbly scribbleness. Apologies in advance to the author.

A Short Story About What Happened To The British Summer

or The Boy Who Stole The Sun

It was a lovely sunny day. Birds were flying around twittering to each other. People were all enjoying themselves, playing games and sunbathing at the beach. Everyone was happy

But there was a little boy, a little, greedy boy called Archibald

Archibald was a miserable little so and so, and, jealous of everyone’s happiness, ran around generally making a nuisance of himself

“Why is everyone else so happy?” he moaned. “Why can’t they be wretched and woeful like me?”

So that night, as people had their backs turned

He rowed his little boat across the sea to the horizon where the sun slept

Then he stole the sun (and it’s hat)

The next morning everyone woke up ready for another exciting day, swimming and making sandcastles. But something was different, something was wrong. Where once the sun had beamed, big black clouds had formed. It had begun to rain

The smiles on everone’s faces soon disappeared

“Hahaha!” laughed Archibald. “Now everyone’s as grumpy as me!”

So evil Archibald crossed the road to buy himself an ice cream

As Achibald was a bad boy and didn't look when crossing the road, he got hit by a big truck

Clutter

Wilson thought he was a clear winner of the annual office desk de-clutter championships.

To everyone else his moronic stuff-everything-down-his-trousers tactic was further proof of his colossal incompetence.

So they promoted him. Well, he was the boss' son after all.

Memories

Dude, you are amazing! How do you remember ever single tiny detail?

Routine

"Excuse me, does the queue run forwards or backwards?"

"Oh, it runs forwards. I just got bored doing this every day so I thought I'd mess with people."

"Oh, I... er...see."

"Yeah it's much more exciting! I have to guess when the queue's moved on. Did you know it takes them 4 minutes to make a cappuccino?"

"No..."

"So I've been figuring out how many people order each drink on average and then using a probability algorithm I can estimate exactly when I should take a step backwards! It's based on a script I..."

"Did you hear that? I think it was my phone? Excuse me, I..."

"But, don't... wait... I... you... you were supposed to understand... I... love you..."

Detachable House

As Jeff moved again he reflected that his detached property had been a lucky buy all those years ago.

Much better than his luck with women, anyway.

Sail

Whilst sailing his family to Sunday lunch using his trusty umbrella, George wondered on the affect the wind was having on his wife's hair.

"Not to worry", he concluded, "Mummy thinks she's a tramp anyway".

Barbeque Introspection

Owen figured one more beer wouldn't make him explode.

Then he remembered Damon. Poor Damon.

Poof!

George shouldn't have really been that suprised when an Alien appeared from nowhere at the Area 51 Disco. Later, he explained that the creature looked just like a Xenofromatron Gutlesnout, but that he thought they only went out in the Gamatron Sector, hence his suprise.

We all had a jolly good laugh about that. Then we had some tea.