Good Grief Biffo!

I ate my hard-skinned peanut butter and jam sandwich, and was advised by my colleague that several unidentified patients had again raided the fridge, carrying off the vegetarian contents of his personal plastic container. Retreating to the ‘quiet’ lounge, I then switched on the T.V. and discovered from the news that some of the latest bilingual road signs in Wales directed people to turn left in Welsh, and to turn right in English. An advert for the internet then showed lots of men running around in T-shirts with a ‘www.’ logo on their backs, claiming that ‘the world was now full of w’s’.
It was indeed.
I counted seven consecutive adverts, lost patience and swapped channels, only to find that the same adverts were being rerun on the alternative channel. Still, at least they weren’t in black and white like most of the bits in between the adverts, and there was always the local evening paper. I picked it up and five colourful leaflets fell on the floor, blending nicely with the gaudy washable carpet tiles and the blackened chewing gum blobs which extended across the room like rows of flattened Pontefract Cakes. As usual, one leaflet tried to interest me in conservatories that had no prices, the next purveyed some bizarre gadgets that wouldn’t have been out of place in a police museum, and another told me how I could make lots of money without risk if only I would sent £15 for a starter pack. The forth invited me to improve my memory using a special secret technique known only to the thousands of people who had already benefited from it, and asked me to visit the web site http://www.can’tremember?co.uk. Luckily, the address didn’t include one of those signs which people now refer to as a ‘forward slash’, because this always sent me scuttling to the nearest urinal with subliminal zeal.

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