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Foodge, pure as the driven snow

Written by Big M.

Foodge had been along every aisle in Buntings. Eventually he found his way to the help desk. Foodge couldn’t help thinking how Buntings rhymed with something, never mind. The assistant suggested he went to the toilet as he was so fidgety as he hadn’t had any alcohol or cigarettes. “Yes I can see them young lady but I have Korsakoff psychosis and am really difficult to manage” replied Foodge.

He had quite a long list, so handed it to the assistant who smiled and handed it to her off sider. “I think you’ll struggle a bit here mate. Skyhook? Do you really need two? We had one in stock but an acrobat bought it this morning.

Five Fallopian tubes. We don’t stock them ‘ere, but ‘arrison’s Prosthetics may have some sort of substitute but I reckon they sell ‘em in pairs.

Left ‘anded ‘ammers have gone outta style, what with carpenters gradually adapting to the more traditional right-handed tool.

Blinker fluid…don’t stock it anymore, try Repco, it will be one aisle over from the Elbow Grease.

As for the Heavy Duty Clutch Belt, that’s not normally a DIY job unless you have your own Heavy Duty Clutch Belt Buckle, but they’re bloody dangerous.

Repco should stock sparks for spark plugs. We used to stock boxes of Inertia, but never seemed to shift ‘em.

Make Up Air sounds like a specialist air conditioning item, or perhaps a beauty aid.” The assistant grinned.

“We can’t sell a new Hydraulic Automatic Nanode valve, but we can recondition an old one, if you can bring it in, undamaged.”

“I suppose I need a special Hydraulic Automatic Nanode Valve Puller or Extractor?” Foodge was exasperated.

“Of course, they’ll have a couple under the counter in Tool Hire. Just ask them for a HANd Job.”

Foodge considered a HANd job but he thought she said a MANdjob and now that she was a born again O’Donnellist he thought that may be a bit rude even though it gave him a chubby. The more things change the more they stay the same.

“I think you better leave Sir. There is something bulging in your pants”

“That’s just my pant bulger, I brought it from here” cries Foodge

“511 to security, we have a problem…”

Poor old Foodge, didn’t even get a sausage from the sausage sizzle…