Hello,
I recently had to seize goods to the value of £3,578.78 from an Indian Head Massage parlour in Maidenhead for non-payment of Business Rates.
I’m not really up to speed with all this mystic stuff – I first ate a courgette when I was 42 and I still don’t understand the concept of a meal without chips.
As the chief head rubbererer Eric, a tall lad with a touch of Shirley Bassey about him, scrambled around looking for money, I availed myself of his facilities. Naturally, being a place that deals with mumbo jumbo I had a shufty at a three-week old Guardian stuffed behind the toilet radiator. Inside was an article by that bloke from Tibet The Dalai Lama. Sounds like a veggie curry to me but there you go.
Old Dilly Dalai was talking about the benefits of meditation for a tranquil and peaceful life. Inspired, I decided to give mediationism a go.
So I assumed the Lotus position on the pot, tricky with your trousers around your ankles, rebalanced my cheeks, closed my eyes and emptied my thoughts.
“OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhmmmmmm” I cried. I felt good.
“OOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhmmmmmm” I repeated. I felt better. Lighter. In tune with my life.
There was a small plop.
I opened my eyes and there was Eric standing in front of me with 26 pence in loose change. As I had reached a higher spiritual plane I gave him an extra week to get the money together.
I also told him to put a lock on his toilet door.
Be Lucky
Bob