2417. Sauce for the goose

Quite frankly, Mavis, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. He sent you on a wild goose chase, and you were as silly as a goose to follow.

You knew from the start that he was loose as a goose. Before that you wouldn’t say boo to a goose, and now you’ve really cooked your goose. It gives me goose bumps just thinking about it.

I told you to tell him that you were making a wigwam for a goose’s bridle, but no! you had to have him think you were the goose that laid the golden egg.

It’s why I baked you a gooseberry pie and written down a list of ways you’ve plucked your goose. Take a gander while you eat instead of swanning around like a peacock.

1820. People in glass houses

People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones – or so the saying goes. Geoffrey Higginbotham lived in a glass house.

It wasn’t one of those garden glass houses, you silly person. It was a real house but it had lots and lots of glass; big (in fact huge) glass panes in the doors and windows. The view out was spectacular. The view in was zilch. The windows were tinted and acted like mirrors.

It had one disadvantage: birds were forever attacking their own reflections in the glass. There would be a WHOMP and a dead bird would lie on the path beneath the window. This could happen several times a day.

Geoffrey tried to save as many birds as possible as often as he could by throwing stones and small rocks at them to scare them away. I know what you’re thinking: people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones. Geoffrey never broke a window with a stone. Not the once. But there was getting to be quite a collection of rocks and stones on the path. One day, Geoffrey tripped on a rock, broke his ankle, and fell headfirst through a gigantic pane.

Which is the real reason why people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones.