Tag Archives: man

2009. Tortino di riso alla valdostana

“Don’t bother calling this number again,” shouted Belinda, throwing her phone vehemently on the floor.

It had been a bad day. First she had discovered at breakfast that there was no orange juice left. She had darted out to the nearby shop and the time wasted meant she missed her regular bus. She was therefore late for work. When the boss reprimanded her for lateness, Belinda replied “You can stick the job where the sun don’t shine, you toffee-nosed chimpanzee.” That kind of ended her employment, and rather suddenly. Anyway, job termination had been on Belinda’s mind for some time. This merely gave things a push.

Upon returning home she quickly scanned the Net for job vacancies and it seemed that every suitable job stipulated: “Reference from previous employer required.” It was hardly something she could ask from a toffee-nosed chimpanzee.

And now her mother had phoned. “Would you like to come to dinner because the Caltabiano’s, nearby neighbours on Brookland Avenue, are coming and bringing their son, a nice young man that I think you’d like. I thought we would dine poolside.” That’s when Belinda shouted “Don’t bother calling this number again,” and threw her phone vehemently on the floor.

Jobless or not, Belinda decided she would spend a little on herself and go out to lunch at a semi-fancy restaurant. She selected an Italian restaurant, dressed herself nicely (just a little bit to get out of her work clothes) and set out. The waiter was very nice; in fact adorable; in fact quite the most stunning man Belinda had spied in a long time; in fact Belinda was so stricken that she almost couldn’t eat her tortino di riso alla valdostana. “I shouldn’t be saying this,” he said, “but would you like to go dancing this evening?”

Indeed she would! And indeed they did!

“I was meant to go out with my parents this evening,” he said, “to some fuddy-duddy’s place on Brookland Avenue to have dinner poolside because they reckoned they had a lovely daughter. My mother’s always trying to set me up with someone. But honestly, I prefer this.”

1195. Fat man’s widow

Roberto was so fat when he died that a special coffin had to be made.

“We don’t stock gigantic coffins for grossly fat people,” said the undertaker to the grieving widow. “You’ll have to get one specially made.”

The poor grieving widow had nowhere to turn. She said she couldn’t afford to have a coffin specially made, let alone a very large one. She went to see if she could get some government benefit to help out.

“We don’t pay for gigantic coffins for grossly fat dead people,” said the Government agency. “If he’d gone on a diet and exercised a bit of self-control before he kicked the bucket we might have looked at it with a bit of sympathy.”

The grieving widow went to see the pastor of the local church.

“Why would we want to help out?” asked the pastor. “Your late husband was a grossly overweight, fat pig. You can’t have your cake and eat it, although looking at the size of your dead husband I’d say he’d eaten as much cake as he could stuff in his mouth. Haw! Haw! Haw!”

By now the grieving widow was desperate and the body (still sprawled on the sofa in her sitting room) was starting to disintegrate.

“Why haven’t you got rid of the body of that disintegrating, grossly overweight, slobby fat pig?” asked the children of the dead husband’s first marriage.

“I can’t fit his corpse through the door and the undertaker won’t help out until the money for the coffin is paid up first,” said the grieving widow.

People heard of the grieving widow’s plight. Thousands of dollars were donated. The grieving widow used the donated money to go on a world cruise in an ocean liner. You can imagine the stink that caused.