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Victorian guy
New member
Brothers,
The other day, I was expecting a very special package to arrive.
I snapped awake at 8am, threw on my dressing gown, and dashed down the hall to be there when it arrived!
I stationed myself at the front door. The postman arrived, and I threw the door open. "Well...it should be here by now...a package the size of a shoebox!" I cried. The postman looked worried, and shrugged it off "Ain't seen it, mate..er...ehm..perhaps next time, eh?"
"I haven't gotten a letter from customs...the sender traced the package and it appears to have last been in YOUR custody" I snapped. I knew then and there that he had kept it for himself!
"Very well, brother" I sighed, and walked back into the house, dejected. Whatever can one do?
A short while later, I ran into Nobby in the kitchen, eating an entire chicken. "Nobby, I'm afraid the postman has our last order of gear. Perhaps you could have a word with him" I suggested. Nobby got up and lumbered off, then returned with a grubby sportsbag, and set it down on the table as he finished off the chicken- bones and all!
"What have we here?" I queried, peering into the filthy, greasy bag. "A chain...a pair of pliers...and a blowtorch. Hmm...off to fix something, are we?"
"Roight" Nobby grunted, and seizing the bag lumbered off.
Later that evening, as I sat in the study listening to Bach's cantata no 78, Nobby entered and gruffly handed me the package! "Capital, Nobby! Seems..er...to have red paint...or blood splattered on it, but nonetheless it's here! Well done!" I cried, and tossed him a bottle of Johnny Walker blue label.
As for the dishonest thief of a postman, I saw on the evening news that he was found battered, beaten, tortured and barely clinging to life in a dumpster behind a local fish and chip shop.
The other day, I was expecting a very special package to arrive.
I snapped awake at 8am, threw on my dressing gown, and dashed down the hall to be there when it arrived!
I stationed myself at the front door. The postman arrived, and I threw the door open. "Well...it should be here by now...a package the size of a shoebox!" I cried. The postman looked worried, and shrugged it off "Ain't seen it, mate..er...ehm..perhaps next time, eh?"
"I haven't gotten a letter from customs...the sender traced the package and it appears to have last been in YOUR custody" I snapped. I knew then and there that he had kept it for himself!
"Very well, brother" I sighed, and walked back into the house, dejected. Whatever can one do?
A short while later, I ran into Nobby in the kitchen, eating an entire chicken. "Nobby, I'm afraid the postman has our last order of gear. Perhaps you could have a word with him" I suggested. Nobby got up and lumbered off, then returned with a grubby sportsbag, and set it down on the table as he finished off the chicken- bones and all!
"What have we here?" I queried, peering into the filthy, greasy bag. "A chain...a pair of pliers...and a blowtorch. Hmm...off to fix something, are we?"
"Roight" Nobby grunted, and seizing the bag lumbered off.
Later that evening, as I sat in the study listening to Bach's cantata no 78, Nobby entered and gruffly handed me the package! "Capital, Nobby! Seems..er...to have red paint...or blood splattered on it, but nonetheless it's here! Well done!" I cried, and tossed him a bottle of Johnny Walker blue label.
As for the dishonest thief of a postman, I saw on the evening news that he was found battered, beaten, tortured and barely clinging to life in a dumpster behind a local fish and chip shop.
