Venusian Blinds
Safegate superstore
Gatesafe Safety Gates
Iguana World
A Visitor’s Guide to Pilmo (Pilmo - Spirit of Disco), City of Three Surprises
Even If You Have Been Refused Credit Before (your life may be forfeit if you do not keep up payments)
Refrigerator Bonanza
Buy any 3 Flatworld novels by Tony Pritchett for only 50p each when you join the Science Fantasy and Fiction Book Club minimum membership 12 years i promise to buy at least 17 books a month at the full price after that time i may cancel my membership
Order your Easter Bilby now from Bilbies B Wee (an affiliate of Willabullies M Us)
Kattelgrid Residents’ Association meeting St Brigitte’s Church Hall this Saturday
which came to a total of 10 leaflets or small booklets not exceeding 20 pages or 12” lgth x 6” wdth. Humboldt Brecht arranged them in size order on the table and took the first batch of 400 papers.
10. FOR X = 1 to 10
20. Open paper to centre
30. Gather up leaflets and shove them in
40. Close paper
50. Drop paper in done pile
60. NEXT
70. Coffee break.
80. IF papers>0 GOTO 1
90. Fall over
Humboldt finished packing all 400 copies of this week’s Pilmo Addendum with anything from five to none of each insert. Then he had a cup of coffee, watched a bit of TV and went to bed.
Well, you didn’t expect him to deliver them all at 1 o’clock in the morning, did you?
Off he went the next evening, in the cool of the temperature, a full bag slung across each shoulder and a trolley stacked high following faithfully behind him wagging its little rainflap joyfully. With each step he left inch-deep footprints in the slabs.
They got shallower as he slogged on, of course, popping papers through poxes, I mean sliding slippers through the slots. Not slippers, the other things. Peaches.
At the flats in Molten Court he got rid of several at a single doorway, as number 22 was an entrance shared by 18 families. Dumping a stack inside the door, the lightening of his load allowed him to walk swiftly on before the usual column of smoke began rising from the porch window as little Shifty Fungusson celebrated delivery with his weekly ritual bonfire.
Slipping past Monkeypuzzle Meadow now, wondering as always how on earth it got its name as the only vegetation visible was the crickleweed growing through the cracks in the stones and the closest thing to a meadow was the old demolition site used as an informal car park for Marlon Stinker's bangers, he trotted lightly into Chipmunk Street.
The rest of the route was as uneventful as usual. Despite his best efforts, the chihuahua at number 8 got to the paper first; 17 Jolyon Street posted it back through the letter box, laughing gleefully; and Oysterkin Fritter Junior tried to run him down with his skateboard. Eventually, footsore and three inches taller than when he had begun, he made his way home for a nice cup of beans.
The following Sunday he was awoken in a most singular manner as a large cast-iron ball smashed through his bedroom window.
"Good gravy," he thought, "That's never happened before!"
Arising with all due haste from his orange box, he hurried to the window. It was no use - where the window had been there was now a gaping hole.
"I cannot see through the window!" he cried, "For it is not there to be seen through!"
Luckily, there was another window, to which the quick-witted Humboldt hurried just as he had hurried before. Through this window he observed a large crane in the street outside, dangling from its chain the very weight which had so impolitely disturbed his slumbers, and there at the controls was his friend Fatty Melhuish.
"Friend Fatty Melhuish!" he paged.
"I am sorry, Humboldt, I cannot hear you!" came the reply.
"Attend upon me this moment, Melhuish, if you would, while I open the window for the better travelling of sound. And I would be obliged if you would arrest the swinging of that big ball in the direction of my domicile until I have spoken with thee."
There followed the suggested course of action, whereupon Humboldt recommenced the order of business.
"Friend Fatty Melhuish! Why swing you that big ball at my dwelling?"
"It is my job, Humboldt."
"Oh, I see. Well, carry on then… oh no, wait! I don't really want my house demolished. Let me take a different approach."
And he did:
"Cease this destruction forthwith! I demand of you, sir, what is the meaning of this wanton tomfoolery? And none of your glib answers, if you please!"
"Ah, that's more like the old Humboldt we know and know! You were not at the meeting, Humboldt."
"I was not, Mr Destructo, for I am a surly curmudgeon who shuns the company of other people. What meeting?"
"Why, the Kattelgrid Residents’ Association meeting at St Brigitte’s Church Hall last night, where we all signed the petition not to have our houses knocked down by the Council for being so tatty and disgraceful, of course. Everyone else was there, for they had all seen the leaflet in the Pilmo Addendum which you so conscientiously deliver to our homes. Even the residents of 22 Molten Court managed to piece together the information from the ashes."
Humboldt slapped his forehead in time-approved manner. He had forgotten to deliver his own copy!
What a silly sausage he was!