The massed hoards stripping the shelves bare and the town hall fire

Having spent the day at Napoleon Beelzebub’s Very Strange Victorian Curiosity Shop trying to help as the massed hoards strip the shelves bare before the shop closes, everyone spaced out.  Poor old Miss Issy spelt with a BBBB (It all to do with it being Wales), was pretending to be a manikin, that can only shuffle very slowly and is unable to bend. She had to move about like this because she is suffering from Whiplash as her car was hit from behind last night by someone she called a ******* ****** ****** ****** total ******* ******* IDIOT.  

Miss Fionaski also popped in to the shop to see us in her spy coat which made her look just like a famous Russian spy and said the mushrooms are travelling eastwards on the morning train, I will be watching them closely in a weeks time as the seagulls fly. Well I don’t know what it means but it must be spy talk for something interesting.  She then went to investigate a strange old car in town, a Morris Cowley Bullnose Coupe saying The Children are eating candyfloss in the hay field, I must return home.

Then a bit later in the day there was a lot of flashing blue lights which turned out to be the fire brigade at the town hall.  There was a lot of smoke coming out of the roof, lots and lots of smoke as it happens. It was all to do with the pensioner’s party, which is held every year just after New Year in the town hall, they can be a bit rowdy so I am told, and old Mr Roberts was of course famous for his roof top protests in Brixton prison often burning down G Block back in his younger days. So I assumed it might have been him reliving his tale about the gold bullion and the Octopus and the night on the roof with nothing but a box of matches and a flare gun, a gallon of petrol and a rolled up newspaper to fend off the oppressive powers of the establishment, as he called the guards.

As it happens it turned out to be the oil fired central heating system that was faulty, well that is what the pensioners told the fire brigade, but I think they left their glasses at home, and I know for a fact that the instructions for the central heating boiler are in very small writing.

I have not taken any pictures of the sky today and no one I know has had to assemble any IKEA products. Although the dog thought he saw a group of pensioners assembling an IKEA central heating boiler today (the Arsonfizz 999), why do IKEA products always have strange names?

The preferred mode of transport of the modern spy