"Well, that's all we have time for tonight, but before we go, here are a few items of late news:
At a special meeting of the executive committee of the Extremely Shy and Painfully Self-Conscious Society tonight, the members gave themselves a vote of no confidence."
"Roughhouse Row, Tower Hamlets, which is London’s toughest street, held a party today for its oldest inhabitant. He’ll be twenty-three on Monday."
"On sale in Siberia today, were perfectly preserved frozen steaks of Siberian Mammoths from the last ice age. A spokesman said they’re cheap and nutritious, but take four thousand years to defrost."
"F. C. Rawls, the train conductor, who has faithfully handed his wife his wage packet every month for the last 20 years, was divorced today. She found out he was paid every week."
"J. Thimble Gluck, the Middlesborough man who doesn’t smoke, drink or gamble and has never had a girlfriend, tried to celebrate his fortieth birthday today, but couldn’t think how to."
"George Mumble, the home county’s most henpecked husband, died today. By the terms of his will, his ashes will be scattered all over his wife’s new living room carpet."
"And finally, the public are warned to be on the lookout for Joseph Gomez, a spaniard, last heard of living in Tooting, who’s mother was a nun in Barcelona. A one-time flautist with the symphony orchestra, he is wanted for looting in Haifa, where he worked on a farm.
The police urge people to look out for a Haifa looting, fluting, Tooting son of a nun from Barcelona, part-time plowboy, Joe."
"In next week’s program, we’ll be talking to a man who's been unemployed for nine years, but has now landed a good, steady job. He changes the prices at petrol stations."
"Then we’ll be hearing of the impact of sillicone treatments in nursery land, when we talk to Not-So-Little Bo Peep, Far-From-Little Miss Muffet and Enormous Jack Horner."
"We’ll also be talking to the farmer who crossed a gossip columnist with an apple, and got a golden malicious."
"And we shall be meeting the brilliant top civil servant who’s got his ear to the ground, his nose to the grindstone, his shoulder to the wheel, his eye on the clock, his hand in the till, his back to the wall, his foot in the door and his finger on the button. And we’ll be asking him how he does his flies up."
"Until then, it's goodnight from me."
"And it's goodnight from him."
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