Meet Herbert S. Simpleton the Third. The Village Bore.

Funny story written by masterchev

Friday, 15 October 2010

image for Meet Herbert S. Simpleton the Third. The Village Bore.

Are you sitting comfortably? Preferably in a seat which is made from 89% polyester or another man-made fibre?

Good. Let us commence.

Eight letters. A lovely word.

My name is Herbert S. Simpleton the Third. I come from a long line of Simpletons. In the First World War, my great-great grandfather Huey B. Simpleton the Twentieth was the Chief Flag Boy. He would carry the flag to the British troops; request for their "Use of British Resources" slip and then stamp it. Following this, he would tie all the slips onto a little pidgeon by the name of Wingy Norman, before it flew away.

But enough of the past, let me dwell on my story.

Every weekday, I like to get up with a glass of orange juice as I need Vitamin C to live. Following a brief examination of my worn out Nintendo 64 which was left on last night, I would proceed via mobility scooter to work.

I work in a tiny portaloo just outside nearby Morrisons in Sheffield. A seller of handouts. I have all the handouts EVER printed: many collected from English teachers over the years. I could probably tell you all about the Official Services handout of 1918. Or the "Let's Eat Healthy" Sainsbury's Handout of the 1980s.

But enough about that.

My Saturday night usually involves me watching repeats of the X-Factor up until the live show starts. Following that, I'd order a Chinese man to prepare an Indian meal for me and then retire.

And then I'd do it all again.

It's not easy being me. I was in a band once. I was the guiatarist, whereas my hamster Mr. Squeakles the Third was the lead singer.

The S in my name stands for Soliliquy, in case you were wondering. My father, Herbert. S. Simpleton the Second, was an avid English teacher: a position more boring-er than my own.

And that's my life in a nutshell. More in the future, I promise. Until then, I think I'll go and find the recent handouts.


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

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