Humor Magazine

Ginger Heartache With Aunty Bill

By Gingerfightback @Gingerfightback

Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Pond Love

Help Aunty Bill!

I think I am in love with my next door neighbour’s goldfish pond. It is on two levels and has a nice water feature in the center (a fountain of Elvis doing the splits). I asked my neighbor if I could take the pond out for a fish supper. He slammed the door in my face and last night firebombed my shed. How can I get him to see that I really love his pond?

Dai, Rhonnda

Aunty Bill Replies;

Hi Dai,

There’s nowt as queer as folk as the old saying goes and just when you think everything’s been covered, up you pop!

Pond love isn’t as unusual as you might have thought. I’m not surprised you’ve fallen for your neighbour’s water feature.

Hell hath no fury like a pond scorned as another old saying goes and its time you demonstrated your love for this pond by embarking on an extensive cleaning, fish feeding and water filtration, as it is obvious that your neighbor is willing to fight for his pond.

A few weeks of intensive pond maintenance should demonstrate that you are indeed serious and that your intentions are entirely honourable.

If this fails, then seek revenge for your shed. You will need the following :

A 12″ gauge shot gun

1 gallon of petrol

1 bucket of bleach

Some gloves

I leave the rest to you – you know what you have to do.


Aunty Bill

PS Your not the brother of Chris Rea by any chance?

The Milk Of Human Kindness

Aunty Bill,

My mom sold me to the milkman in order to buy a shoe horn the other week. Strange you might think.

Do you think she is trying to tell me something? I weigh 87 stone and recently ate our roof by mistake. It made a healthy alternative to cheese in a sandwich.

Yvonne, Winchester

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Yvonne

Ah the harsh economic realities of bread line Britain eh?

The shoehorn is merely a metaphor for shoe horning you out of the door and out of her life (although at 87 stone she’s got a job on her hands and will need a bigger horn or lots of smaller ones).

Selling you to the milkman was her way of saying “Get out of my house you overweight useless wazzock,” but as she’s your mom she couldn’t bring herself to say these words.

At least she sold you to a milkman.

Milkmen (and women) have over the years demonstrated a deep affection for fat people. Before the days of the electric cart, they could be seen across Britain pulling the float while the milkmen jumped on and off delivering the nation’s favorite drink.

Hopefully he will put you to work and you’ll not only see the pounds fall away but be in a position to replace the roof over you dear old mum’s head which you so thoughtlessly ate.

Chink! Chink!


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