Dear Sir,
I have always worried things although ninety nine times out of a hundred, in retrospect, all that nervous effort has been for no reason. But last week the exception occurred. My situation is so intolerable I have decided to reach out to the people of Sheffield for assistance. I have never really been a fan of trousers, especially ones made from thin material with pleats at the front and I sense that my neighbor is all too aware of this.

Friday started out much as any other day for me. After my morning Spanish omelet I made my way out to the garden shed to smoke my pipe. As I stood in amongst the myriad of pristine gardening tools I noticed my neighbor closing his back door, he proceeded down the path towards his dilapidated chicken coup. It was then that I noticed his trousers had three pleats on the front on each side. However, my disgust was somewhat abated by my interest in what he was doing at that hour of the morning.

At this moment in time my neighbor only has one chicken and it was sat on top of the coup looking rather lonely and quite haggard. After a couple of minutes of searching he didn’t find any eggs, it would seem that the chicken had not lain anything that morning. He then stood up and stared at the chicken, he then stepped forward so that he was nose to beak with it and said ‘You Barstard’. I suppose he wanted an egg for his breakfast and for a moment I considered offering him one of mine but then I remembered those awful pleated trousers and reconsidered.

Thankfully the rest of the morning went according to my usual routine but a dark cloud hung over me, I could not stop thinking about my neighbor and the fate of his hapless chicken. This concern intensified with each passing moment. I had to take control of myself and the situation, so I decided to creep into his garden and plant one of my eggs in the coup. I successfully accomplished the task under the cover of darkness. The next day my neighbor went and collected it and didn’t say anything to the chicken which I viewed as positive progress in their relationship. But soon I realised that to continue this progress I’d have to plant another egg in the coup which I did later that night.

I now feel like I’m trapped in some kind of recurring cycle, every day I make sure I have enough eggs in the fridge and each night I steal into next doors garden and place an egg into the coup, the next day this process commences again. I do not know what to do to stop this all consuming daily task, if any readers have any suggestions I would be eternally grateful.


Yours,


Jeff Winntherly.

DON'T start buying eggs from the neighbour.

How can we compete with this kind of writing. ?

Dear Mr. Winntherly

I, and my fellow friends at S.A.C (Save a Chicken....not the U.S Government's Strategic Air Command) believe that your intervention in the daily "planting" of an egg in the chicken-run is laudible. We need more people like you with us! It's £48 p.a. .........no charity tax refund available, I'm afraid!

Unlike the United State's S.A.C.'s planting of, (as they would say "liitle eggs") with the capability of causing WW3, your early morning subterfuges are saving a sweet little one of God's creatures from the evils of being roasted in a gas-fired oven next Christmas.

We can help you! We are the true "Free Chicken Warriors"!

Send us £12 per month and we can save other chickens in predicaments like this! (Well we can if the U.S Strategic Air Command Bombers don't decide to obliterate us all, as well as the chicken for which you are providing an alibi).

Yours indomitably

Cyrus C. Crapper

ps. Make it an uncrossed check.

I like these interchanges between seriessix and shoeshine.

Dear Sir,

For over a decade I have dedicated my life to saving other people lives. It’s hard, but ultimately satisfying work. Knowing I am making a difference to the world and to the lives of families helps me climb out of bed each morning and travel the 3 hour journey to the Hallamshire Hospital each day.

When at the hospital I change in to my work cloths, fasten my utility belt and pick up my dust pan and brush and start my rounds at the hospital. The first stop every day are the toilets on the first floor. There I diligently clean the cubical, urinals, floors and basins, leaving not a spot of dirt or germs. From then I move to the wards exchanging banter with the patients, reminding them that without me they may die a horrible and painful death due to infection.

The problem is, even knowing the good I do, and the hundreds of people I save from amputation or even death each year, I just cannot take the commute anymore! The question I would like to pose to our readers is; does this make me a bad person? I am thinking about moving to Leeds General Infirmary which is only 15 minutes from my 1970’s style caravan, but what will happen to my patients? What will be their fate? Could this be classed as murder or manslaughter? What will the good people of Sheffield do without me?

Conflicted, confused and befuddled; I leave my decision to the good people of Sheffield.

Many thanks in advance.

Conflicted, confused and befuddled; I leave my decision to the good people of Sheffield.

Many thanks in advance.

Dear Conflicted, Confused and Befuddled,

Firstly may I congratulate you for having the common sense to seek the advice of this unesteemed group of disparate pen-pushers, egotists, and may I say it, degenerate social outcasts. Our motto - "We always aim to please!" - (ourselves).

You do indeed have a dilemma on your hands.

Have you thought of changing your career at all? I can't speak for fellow members here, but I think if you are used to doing dirty work, perhaps you will consider setting up a Betting Shop from home, in other words...your caravan.

It sounds daunting, agreed, but your outlay need be minimal. All you need to do is paint a small sign to fix above the door to your caravan, park it up on the main Car Park at Ice Peaks Shopping Centre on Race Days, and take punters bets at the caravan door.

This will guarantee you a low overhead business; no VAT, no accountant (you will be a Turf Accountant, remember), no business rates to pay, and the Inland Revenue won't bother you for a couple of years at least. In fact the Revenue employees could be among your most frequent customers, if the rumours about them are to be believed!

You would be at the heart of the bustling, devil-may-care, money-to-burn buyers gracing that wonderful shrine to capitalism.

Instead of the grotty toil of cleaning up the hospital toilet areas every day, you would be cleaning out the pockets of the unsuspecting chancers/wishfuls on their way to the marble "shrines to spending".

You've spotted there's a snag in this suggestion. :) Well, we've got that one covered.

Should a customer accidentally make a really profitable bet which could lead to your insolvency, shut up shop sharpish, hitch the caravan up to your car and high-tail it to Leeds General Infirmary double quick and apply for a job when the profits run out.

If, by perchance you cannot make a quick enough getaway, Hallamshire Hospital Staff will be pleased to look after you in their pristine wards until your injuries heal.

Yours sincerely

Podmore ("Sprinter") Johnson (Bookie's Runner. Ret.)

I see you are back on form shoeshine !! :D