I used to like school until we had to learn to make rock cakes.
I mean,there were no rocks in our street and anyway my mother couldn’t afford them.The nuns said I was cheeky and made me stand in the corner until I died.And I’ve never felt the same since.
In fact,I’ve never felt anything since.
After 6 years in the grammar school I went mute.It was dead easy.
After I left they said I should have gone back to try for Oxford.
They say it’s dead simple if you know how.
When I was older I did go to Oxford.That livened me up a bit but it was dead wrong for me owing to my muted Lancashire accent and lack of the wherewithall. I was their first dead postgraduate ever.
It nearly killed me.I was glad to leave before they cremated me and threw me off Magdalen Bridge on Hey Day .
Can the dead speak? Yes, but only if they stop coughin’.
Can the dead joke? No,they are too grave.
Can the dead walk? Only in Lambeth.
Can the dead see? Only in the Holy Land.
Cam the dead make love? Only if they were Victorian ladies.
Can the dead eat? Only if they run together.
Cam the dead write? Only using dead letters.
Can the dead hear? Only when we prey.
Can the dead watch TV? It’s their funeral.