Frankie Lassut

Warm Your Cockles (eBook, ePUB)

• Format: ePub

Produktbeschreibung

Hello again, that is if you're one of the ten nice, gorgeous, lovely (and we hope you are very happy and wealthy beyond your wildest dreams) people who bought one of our other books. We really love our customers and we thought we would give you two options of rewards. The first: If you're the ten millionth customer to purchase one, we will present you with a five-pound note. The note will be made of plastic and will not fold. The last person we gave a fiver to folded it up and put it in their pocket. It unfolded very quickly and threw them over a wall. It was okay thank God as it was a mattress factory reject yard. The second is, come around to our country mansion and have a cuppa. We must warn you though, about mother, who is completely harmless and just likes wandering around with an axe ... and a saw, in case she catches anyone. Just joking! It's Father; he likes to wear a dress and a wig, although he says that the tights make his legs itch and his ankles swell up when he farts.

Some cheeky people have said that these write-ups are better than the books, the badstars!
They were easily dealt with; we just invited them around for a cuppa; they're no trouble no more (God rest their souls). The only negative is we find is that we're running out of room in the cupboard under the stairs. So this little offering is called Warm the Cockles. It's a bit mad but very normal but you like that don't you?
The other is a true story about the things that happen in an old folk's tea- room. And the last set of stories are very short and based on four great jokes I once heard. The very last is a question which should, if we're luck cause a row with you and your family.
Enjoy.

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Produktdetails

• Verlag: Frankie Lassut
• Erscheinungstermin: 14. April 2015
• Englisch
• ISBN-13: 9781311176233
• Artikelnr.: 46921883

Autorenporträt

I am the one being shaved; the other one Nim, is is a looney bin now!
I went to see a psychic years ago who ended up as my girlfriend; she didn't see that one coming! But she was extremely honoured. However it ended badly i.e. it rained heavily as I buried her body and I got soaked. No! You don't really want to hear about it, it's depressing; I was joking about the burial. She told me that I was to uncover a talent I had ... Well, another psychic told me that as the first one was dead; I was lying when I said I was lying. Nothing happened for quite a while. Suddenly I realised I needed a 'job' quite badly as I was beginning to drink halves. No, not a boob 'job'! I went for the cheap option i.e. the surgeon gave some socks to shove up my jumper when I go out. I got a 'job' (have you got boobs on your mind?) because someone told me that bus-driving was easy because you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel. She was about six, a wise woman ... that's called an oxymoron. Fantastic! I thought get the job and in a couple of days I'd be driving all the nice passengers around and about seeing all the sights for a fraction of the cost of a tour bus; and we'd have a roof in case it rained. Easy! First of all though there was the training; and I entered hell.

I was born in Cumbria in a little ex-iron ore mining town called Millom. It was only small, a one- horse town; the horse was called Peg. It had a pedigree name too, but I can't remember it at the moment: Peggy Suss? However, I got fed up and left as I was the only man in a town full of women and they were all lesbys; I've always been lucky. I went to Blackpool and attended the photographic college. I then moved to Coventry and met the psychic who would tell me what was going to happen. I could say now that the rest is history. Well it is, but obviously not history as that's all made up anyway. Then I got the job bus-driving, which as I said is easy 'you just sit on your butt and turn the wheel'. The bus station management weren't pleased that she had said that though, so she was tried and sent to Guantanamo Bay; they have a section for young kids who are bad to the bone.

The job was so mad that I thought it would be a good idea to write out some posters and stick them all on the wall of the bus station. The other drivers enjoyed them, but the management tore them down, the badstars (that's an anagram of astards +B). I carried on and ended up with a manuscript for a book, which, by ...