Wednesday, 15 April 2009

Recycling is good for the Environment

Some years ago, in the hills above Killarney, there lived Seamus and Isobel Dunne and their family of 6 boys.

It was a happy but isolated existence, so it came as a bit of a shock when eldest son Niel announced that he was off to seek his fortune amongst the bright lights of London. His parents tried to dissuade him but he was focussed on this particular dream and one day in early May he duly set off after a tearful farewell to his family. All they knew was that he would be heading for London WC5 and would be writing back with news and details.

The Summer came and went in that idyllic but changeable area of Kerry. As Autumn approached there had still been no word from young Niel and his parents were worried sick. When the local Publican, Jack, announced that he would be visiting London next week to see his brother, the Dunnes quickly persuaded him to help find out how their boy was getting on in the big City.

Jack duly arrived at Paddington Station in London the following Tuesday armed with the information he had been give .... London WC5.

As he strode purposefully across the concourse he noticed a sign to the right - "WC". He immediately made his way through the door and down the stairs where he encountered a row of small doors with numbers on.

Consulting his notes quickly, he made his way to WC number 5 and banged fiercely on the door.

"Are you Neally Dunne?", he demanded.

"Yes, but there's no paper", came a small voice from inside.

"Dats no excuse for not writing to your Mother!!".

14 comments:

Dave said...

What a memory you have, Roger.

KAZ said...

I feel you are suggesting that folks from Killarney may not be quite as urbane and worldly wise as those from Norfolk and East Angular.

Alan said...

lol :)

Christopher Campbell-Howes said...

Crucible Theatre, Sheffield, Monday 29th April 1985, c. 2 am

Rog said...

Dave: ...er, I've forgotten what I meant to write...

Kaz: Gotcha! I hoped someone would fall into my carefully laid trap for Grauniad Readers. The publican, you see, is called "Jack" which is certainly not an Irish name - in fact he comes from a suburb of Accrington in Lancashire so how could I possibly infer that he was a bit slow on the uptake?!

Alan: ;-)

Christopher: 2am?!! That must have been Ken Dodd then.

Christopher Campbell-Howes said...

Sorry - a vital bit got missed out somehow:

It should have read:

© Dennis Taylor, World Snooker Championship, Crucible Theatre etc.

Z said...

You're quite wonderful Rog. You have lightened my day.

Rog said...

Christopher: Ah yes. I was there...and late for work the next morning!

Z: My work here is done!

Geoff said...

I work in a WC.

Rog said...

Geoff: Is it a cottage industry?

Christopher Campbell-Howes said...

I wonder if Geoff is entitled to take his holidays at his convenience, too?

Rog said...

Christopher: He probably works and then takes days off in loo.

Geoff said...

I'm a bit bogged down with work at the moment.

One day I'll lift the lid on everything that happens here.

Rog said...

Geoff: I bet there's a lot of Arses in there.