I love a good wedding, me. And I love a good funeral. But which is… Sorry, I slipped in to Harry Hill mode for a moment.
I wish I had a photograph to support this but sadly I was too slow. When I arrived in the place I’ve been visiting today I saw, in the town square, a van belonging to a *private* car-clamping company.
The vehicle was wearing a clamp! And it was being hoisted on to a flatbed belonging to a *different* car-clamping company.
This is an unrelated photo I found on the intertubez:
No, don’t laugh. Really. That’s just nasty of you.
In other news, I continue to bother the editor and his loyal band of readers over at Shouting At Cows, with my own peculiar brand of childishly puerile rubbish.
If you want to read the whole mix of contents, and I suggest that might be a cool thing to do, you could click here: http://www.shoutingatco.ws
But if you fancy being uber-selective and just get to the stuff wot I wrote, and I suggest that might be a tactical error, you could click here: http://www.shoutingatco.ws/blog/author/bren/
It has been suggested in some quarters that Mr Shouting At Cows drowns a dozen kittens every time someone doesn’t visit his website. You wouldn’t catch me repeating that suggestion in public, oh no.
In other news…
Strange things are afoot in the world of cats:
A copper getting clamped?! It doesn’t get much funnier than that in my book (especially as I once got booked by one because a tiny fraction of my wheel was on the kerb – apparently I was ‘obstructing the pavement’. Twat)