It was a Friday, I was stood, bored, outside the post office in the sleepy village that accommodates the soulless business park / office blot on the landscape where I work.
A colleague was inside the post office, posting some dogshit to someone he hates, holding the place up, or generally doing whatever the fuck, before we experienced the highlight of the week in the form of a bag of chips on the way back to the office. Well it was a Friday after all, so why not go mental eh?
I was propped up outside the post office, watching coffin dodgers wobbling wheezily in and out of the door, and was finally sufficiently overcome with tedium to review that most ancient portal of local nonsense, for local people: The pin board in the window.
Think of it, if you will,as an ancestor of certain parts of the Internet, where now, only old people know how to make a posting.
As my can-hardly-be-arsed eyes scanned the board itself, they fell upon a card, and it awoke me from my zombie stupor. Some filthmonger was advertising her womanly wares in the local postoffice! At knock down prices!
Filth!
This lady of negotiable affections, was brazenly offering to grill any gentleman’s kippers for a mere £8 an hour!
Now a couple of thoughts crossed my mind:
- That’s a very open-minded postmaster to accept such a card for the window
- That as the average person posting a card here was probably over 60, that may not be the bargain it sounds, not unless you have some very specialist tastes.
And no, there wasn’t a third point, you dirty-minded gits.
However, it helps if you read the title…
Not filth
As you were people…as you were.
spiffingwheeze 