Pugh didn’t at all like the idea of a small fortune being frittered away from his inheritance by the purchase of a coffin that looked like a vagina with real hair. However he was intrigued as to why anyone would want to make such a request in the first place. He asked the solicitor.
Oldknow shrugged. “People get buried in all manner of things nowadays; indeed there are specialist coffin suppliers who cater for the most bizarre of tastes. I once heard of someone being buried in a Red Arrows jet coffin. Another in a motor-bike sidecar, alongside her motor-cyclist husband who had met his demise a year earlier. In your brother Aneurin’s case, from what I’ve been told – although I didn’t delve too deeply I must admit - he believed very much in the rejuvenating powers of the vagina.”
“
Rejuvenating powers?” Pugh was surprised to say the least. “He’s not expecting it to bring him back to life, is he?”
Amazon Reader’s Review:-
"Apparently your brother maintained the belief that having sex with an inflatable rubber woman was almost as beneficial in creating a feeling of well-being as the real thing. This being the case he viewed his operation more like a public service than a moneymaking operation. Which isn't to say he didn't make substantial profits from the sales ..."
Pugh's heart beat faster. Substantial profits. What a wonderful coming together of words.
With the above opening paragraph of Inflatable Hugh I was hooked. Terry Ravenscroft's tongue in cheek writing had me laughing out loud from beginning to end. From the wily to the ingenuous, from the morally indignant Vigilantes Against Sex Toys to the crafty machinations of politicians, all are depicted with subtle insight into character. In recommending this as a `great' read I could only paraphrase the author's own writing: What a delightful coming together of words!
- Rue.
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****
Superintendent Screwer fixed Sergeant Hawks with a beady eye. When would they ever learn? “Where there is football, Sergeant, there is football hooliganism. Having been previously stationed at Leeds I know that for a fact; and I know all about the cancer in our society that football hooliganism has become.”
“
With respect sir, what few supporters the Town still have are nothing like Leeds United supporters.”
Screwer glared at him. If Hawks had been the office door the paint would have blistered.
“
Respect?” he screamed. “Respect, Sergeant Hawks? You aren't showing me any frigging respect! If you were you wouldn't be arguing with me, you would be making plans to adequately police Frogley Town's opening game of the season!”
Hawks bit his lip. Retirement and that cottage in the Lakes suddenly seemed much farther away. “Yes sir.”
Screwer drew in his horns a little. “Football supporters are the same the world over, Sergeant. Animals. Nothing more, nothing less. Take my word for it, just because the fans of Frogley Town have yet to reveal their true colours doesn't mean to say that one day they aren't going to.”
“
No sir.”
The horns shot back out again as if spring-loaded. “Well just let them! They will not find the Frogley Police Force wanting. Not while my name is Herman Screwer they won't. We'll be ready for them, Sergeant. Ready to whip then into line; ready to break them; ready to smash the brainless bastards into submission!” He suddenly smashed his right fist into his left hand. The splat of the bone of his knuckles colliding with the flesh of his palm made Hawks wince. “Crowd control, that's the name of the game. What are we like for tear gas?”
Amazon Reader’s Review:-
Apart from being very very funny, Football Crazy is unique. For me it's a marvellous mixture of Tom Sharpe and Ripping Yarns with its larger-than-life characters that come alive in your head as the story unfolds and the world of football superstars meets the rich tycoon who's going to bring the return of long-awaited success. Except we're talking Frogley Town and a meat-pie millionaire. Oh - and Superintendent Screwer who would see civil unrest in an impatient bus queue. As is the way with the best caricatures, we've sort of met the main characters before. We know elements of Donny Donnelly, Joe Price and Superintendent Screwer do actually exist in the real world; we can't quite place who and where but we recognise them when we see them. I really do recommend this book, it's a cracking story and, football fan or not, it will bring a smile to your face. It's crying out to be made into a one-off TV special. -
Anthony J McCrorie
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****
DEAR AIR 2000
17 Lingland Rd
New Mills
Cheshire
19th March 2006
Air UK Ltd
Stansted Airport
Essex
Dear Air UK
I recently travelled with your airline, and what an exciting experience it was! It was the very first time that I have ever flown, but you can rest assured I will be flying with Air UK on many more occasions in the future if my first experience was anything to go by.
Everything about the flight was excellent - although I believe Air 2000 could give
you a run for your money as far as the in-flight catering goes with their truly mouth-watering lasagne - but what excited me the most was the sight of your stewardesses. How lovely they looked in their smart Air UK uniforms!
And this gets me to the point of my letter. Is it possible to buy an Air UK stewardess uniform? I’m sure that if my wife owned one and she wore it at the appropriate time it would be all that was needed to but a bit of spice back into
our sex life. I look forward eagerly to your reply.
Yours sincerely
T Ravenscroft (Mr)
Air UK’s reply follows
Amazon Reader’s Review:-
I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book, couldn’t put it down. Mad-cap humour at its best. My only criticism is that it was too short, I got through it in a day. Going off now to see what else this guy has written that I might enjoy. Highly recommended. -
ketch29
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****
The Jacob's Bakery Ltd
Liverpool
Dear Jacob's Bakery
I am writing to you in my official capacity as secretary of the New Mills Invalids Club. This year marks the 25th anniversary of the club, and we mean to celebrate the occasion in some style, whilst at the same time giving club funds a much needed boost. To achieve this we intend to manufacture and sell to the general public a chocolate biscuit. We are confident that we have the expertise to accomplish this as four of our members used to work for the local sweet and confectionery factory - in fact it was because they worked at the local sweet and confectionery factory that they became invalids, having caught various parts of their anatomy in the machinery, but that's another matter.
Here is where you come in. I have long been a fan of your Jacob's Club biscuits, as have many of my fellow members, and to this end we would like to 'cash in' on your esteemed name by calling our biscuit a 'Jacob's Club Foot' biscuit. This would at once inform the public that it is a quality product, and also that it supports invalids. Can I have you permission, please?
Yours sincerely
T Ravenscroft (Mr)
Jacob's reply follows
Amazon Readers Review:-
Do not read this book whilst holding a cold drink, a hot partner or anything squeezable. The genius of this man's writing is a beautiful thing to read, dry, sharply observed and above all cheap as chips on kindle downloads. As funny as ‘Dear Air 2000’ but without the lasagne although you will never be able to look at Bisto gravy granules in quite the same way ever again. Whatever you do download this and help keep Terry Ravenscroft in Oxfam trousers and 2 bottles of white wine.
– Lee Sylvester.
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****
LES DAWSON’S CISSIE AND ADA
WE DISCOVER CISSIE AND ADA IN AN ART GALLERY.
ADA: This isn’t doing my feet any good, they feel like a couple of globe artichokes.
CISSIE: Oh stop complaining will you, we have a lot to get through yet.
THEY WALK ON. SUDDENLY ADA SEES A STATUE OF A NAKED GREEK GOD. IT STOPS HER IN HER TRACKS.
ADA: Ooooooh! (SHE QUICKLY COVERS CISSIE’S EYES AND TRIES TO WALK HER PAST THE STATUE)
CISSIE: What the….what do you think you’re playing at, Ada
ADA: Just keep walking, Cissie.
CISSIE PUSHES ADA’S HANDS AWAY
CISSIE: Get your hands off me, you daft…. (SHE SEES THE STATUE)…oooh! Oh I say.
ADA: Well I did try to save you from it.
CISSIE: Yes. Thank you Ada, love.
ADA: Disgusting, isn’t it.
CISSIE: Positively scandalous.
THEY BOTH CARRY ON LOOKING AT THE STATUE, UTTERLY TRANSFIXED, IN AWE.
CISSIE: I wonder who sculpted it?
ADA: I don’t know, but he wasn’t short of clay.
CISSIE: It could be Moore, I suppose.
ADA: Oh not much more, surely.
CISSIE: I meant
Henry
Moore, the sculptor! Or on second thoughts it could be Rodin. He did 'The Thinker' you know.
ADA: Well that would give you something to think about, that's for sure.
CISSIE: Honestly Ada, your mind! You’ve got a point though, because he’s certainly a big lad and no mistake.
ADA: I thought he had three legs at first.
CISSIE: I wonder what it’s called? (SHE NOTICES A PLAQUE AND LEANS FORWARD TO READ IT)
ADA: Be careful Cissie, it could poke your eye out.
CISSIE: (READS OFF THE PLAQUE) It’s called ‘Waiting’.
ADA: Yes and he’d be waiting a hell of a long time if he was mine. Hey, can you keep a secret, Cissie?
The sketch continues.
Just a few of many YouTube quotes in praise of Cissie & Ada:-
‘
I'm aching from laughing! Pure genius!’
‘What great acting and great scriptwriting! ’
‘This is probably the funniest clip of these two ever. "Were you 'virgo intacta'?" "No just bed and breakfast." ’
‘Was drinking a cup of tea when Ada said she was approaching the change. When Cissie said "From which direction?" I lost it as I spat a mouthful of tea across the room. Classic, brilliant comedy. ’
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****
.......You have to take your opportunities for a bit of fun when and wherever you find them so when I noticed a man of about my age approaching in the opposite direction I picked up the Zimmer Frame, twirled it round my head a couple of times, and heaved it into the distance. It had not long since been announced that Britain had been granted the 2012 Olympic Games, and with it the Paralympics, and it was probably this, and the thought I’d just had about cripples taking up their bed and walking, that put the idea into my head.
After I’d gone to recover the Zimmer Frame and started to walk back with it the man had stopped and now looked on, puzzled. I turned to him and said, a little self-critically: “Not bad.”
His face was a picture of inquisitiveness. “What on earth are you doing?”
“
Training for the Paralympics.”
“
Pardon?”
“
Throwing the Zimmer Frame," I explained. .”It's a new event. Apparently the host country can pick an entirely new event and Britain has chosen Throwing the Zimmer Frame. It just nudged out the Hop, Hop and Hop for the one-legged I believe."
I returned with the Zimmer to the spot from which I'd thrown it. Two twirls round my head and I launched it again. This time it went about five yards farther.
"Quite an improvement," the man observed, approvingly.
"Yes, must be close to my PB that one," I said, pleased with myself. “That’s Personal Best,” I explained.
"Yes I know, I’m a fan of athletics,” he said. He thought about it for a moment. “Can anyone enter?"
I shrugged as though I didn’t really know. "Well I suppose.” I qualified this. “You need a Zimmer Frame of course." I had a thought. “It’s possible you could get a grant; you might be able to get funding for one if you show you any promise. I’m sure I’ve heard of pole-vaulters getting grants for fibre glass poles.”