Written by DrTommo
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Tuesday, 18 September 2007

I was having a fag outside last night and thinking about Roy Castle like you do, when it occurred to me that I hadn't seen those two twin brothers that he knocked about with on TV the twins were the Guinness book of records truth squad and made it their business that nobody pulled the wool over the eyes of the mighty book. Unless someone was making a giant jumper of course! I started to think what other twins or brothers could step into their famous shoes. Maybe TV's Mitchell brothers could do it, intimating poor would-be-record-holders to go beyond the limits of pain or extremity. But of course they are not real or are they? And so I stopped my flight of fancy.

But after watching the news last night surely there must be a few records smashed. The length of time a person can be in a queue for no reason other than someone else was there before you. The northern rockers, god bless them, would and could queue for England and so they
did.

Legions of the grey haired, comfy shoed, whiffing of deep heat and detol, lined the high streets of blighty proudly destroying a bank and its employees with their Daily Mail paranoia.

What shocked me the most was how much cash the old misers had. I started to feel very depressed as I myself now in my mid-life crisis years and hardly a pound to rub together or throw at passing cyclist. I pondered the error of my ways and wondered if walking up and down
outside Northern Rocks herding grey tops with a begging poster would make me a few bob, I somehow doubt it . Its more likely I would be pelted to death with mint imperials or worthers originals and told to f**off polack.

There is of course an upside to this. Go now to your local Post office, Bank, supermarket, any place you need to be in and out in record time and yes, lord!, lord almighty!, you can, the tellers of England look lost, the librarians lay slumped in their desks googling their school friends, Your GP will see you right away and at home if you want! Utopia has unfolded under our very noses. Like some kind of super charged geriatric gerrymander.

God Bless You all.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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