Best friends graduated from medical school at the same time and decided that, in spite of two different specialties, they would open a practice together to share office space and personnel. Dr. Smith was the psychiatrist and Dr. Jones was the proctologist; they put up a sign that read:
"Dr. Smith and Dr. Jones: Hysterias and Posteriors".
We lost track of time chatting about the wild, romantic times we used to enjoy together. I couldn't believe it when she asked if I'd be interested in meeting up and rekindling a little of that "old magic". "Wow!" I was flabbergasted.
A proposed council tax-evaluation policy will mean reassessment of current house values which will mean they will charge us more if we live in a nice area. That ought to mean discounts for those of us who live in rough areas:
There is a huge house in our street. The extended family is run by a grumpy old woman with a pack of irritable dogs allowed to run without leads. Her car isn't taxed or insured and doesn't even have a number plate, but the police still do nothing. To the best of my knowledge, she has never worked.
Her bad-tempered old man is notorious for racist comments. A shopkeeper blamed him for arranging the murder of his son and his son's girl-friend, but nothing has been proved.
All their kids have broken marriages except the youngest, who everyone thought was gay.
Two grandsons are meant to be in the Army but are always out partying in nightclubs. It is not known if they even have the same father. They are out of control!
I hate living near Windsor Castle.
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