Discussion in 'CycleChat Cafe' started by Drago, 10 Nov 2018.
Don't be cruel
Dear Mr T
I gave a letter to the postman, he put it his sack Bright an early next morning, he brought my letter back
She'd wrote upon it Return to sender, address unknown No such number, no such zone
We had a quarrel, a lover's spat I write I'm sorry but my letter keeps coming back
So then I dropped it in the mailbox and sent it special D Bright in early next morning it came right back to me
She'd wrote upon it Return to sender, address unknown No such person, no such zone
This time I'm gonna take it myself and put it right in her hand And if it comes back the very next day then I'll understand
The writing on it Return to sender, address unknown No such number, no such zone
Return to sender, return to sender Return to sender, return to sender
Is this proof that the mail man and my girlfriend may be intending to do a runner. Wooden heart them to be honest about what they're planning. All I wanted was to love her tender(Her papa's big into fire trucks)
As requested, returned to sender
Royal Mail sorting office, Pendle Hill, Witches Country.
Dear Mr T
I am Helena, a young Athenian woman who is in love with Demetrius, a man I have a history with. However, Demetrius is in love with my friend Hermia and so scorns my affections towards him. I am envious of Hermia and the love Demetrius has for her and so I continue to pursue him, even following him into the forest. I have little self confidence and therefore when both Lysander and Demetrius show their affection for me, I believe they are just mocking me and I blame Hermia for this sudden change of circumstance. Fortunately, Lysander gets his senses back and I am left with the love of Demetrius which I have so long desired.
Should I put aside these infractions and not pursue my true love. Even though he seems set to marry someone else, unaware of my love for him?
Young & Besotted
Say what, fool? A woman called hernia? I pity that fool.
Dear Uncle Drago.I am being hounded by the tax office,after a member on here told the world he gave me a letter.The tax people have accused me of working again,i am now on an emergency tax code and it is costing me a fortune.Can i sue the poster for giving this false information.
Fool! We know youre working, and I pity you for that. Invest your earnings in lashings kf heavyweight gold necklaces, then the revenue won't know.
A mere "like" for this is not enough. Though a bit late may I say this is just hilarious.
I'm afraid Mr T has had to leave us to start filming his new film - Snickers, this time it's personal.
However, in what I think is quite a coup, I've managed to blag a Mr A. Schwarzenegger to answer your letters.
Dear Uncle Arnie
I'm in a dilemma. I put the washing on and then discovered an odd sock that was meant to be in the load as well.
Do I wash both socks, meaning sock #1 will be washed twice? Do I hang dirty sock #2 up and wear it twice? Should I wash sock #2 and leave sock #1 (This could be a kerfuffle).
Yours in hope
Diane, Leamington Spa
Dear scrawny weakling,
Zis is indeed a problem. If I ver you I vould shout "get to the washing machine" until it did as it vas told.
Heil, I mean yours faithfully.
Dear Uncle Arnie
Looking through my old pictures, I am getting more and more freaked out.
It seems my very first bike was not at all the amazing red racing machine I "remember" but instead a blackish miniature farm gate with mudguards.
Do you think this ruined my cycling career for ever? Do you think I could have been a "great" if I started off better?
Do you think I am now trying to compensate for something?
Yours in wanting
Confused from Coventry
Dear uncle Arnie.
I really could do with your advice.
I have fallen in love with a certain welsh woman (who I prefer not to name but will do if you insist).
In order to impress her I have increased my body building exercises to 6 days a week.
Now, my chest measures 35 inches, my biceps measure 12 inches and I can easily bench press 40 kilos.
Do you think this is too much for a shy welsh lass to come to terms with. The last thing I want is to make her swoon over my manly physique.
Listen to me, you weak and weedy piece of worthless Democrat rubbish,
I had the same problem, so I cut the legs off of all my trousers. I'm not sure why I did so, but my career went from strength to strength following this. I suggest you do the same.
Dear Uncle Arnie,
There is a colleague at work who keeps stealing my Jammie Dodgers from my desk when she thinks I'm not looking.
How can I politely ask her to stop doing it?
Separate names with a comma.