“There’s an automated air freshener spray in
the toilets at work. Squirts me straight in the face every time I use the
urinal. Pass the potatoes, please.”
“Why do they do that? Happens every time.
They’ve got one in the pub and even the surgery where I went to get my hand
fixed. They’re all over the place and it’s annoying. Gravy, please.”
“It’s so quiet at work now; deserted like
all the pubs and hospitals. It bugs me when they spray. More meat?”
“Please. It’s a delicious casserole, Jim. Your missus has good hands.”
“True. And not too fatty.”
“Please. It’s a delicious casserole, Jim. Your missus has good hands.”
“True. And not too fatty.”
1 comment:
Ah! Hygiene after the apocalypse?
And Jim's missus is still contributing to the cooking... sort of. :)
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