The Sandwich: #343

The Sandwich


I asked the man waiting at the platform what time the train was due. He said two-thirty. I asked him what time it was now. He said it wasn't.

"Wasn't what?" I asked.

"This is the centre of the Earth," he explained. "There isn't a time here. All the time is on the outside of the planet."

Woooh, this made my brain go all fizzy. How can there be no time? Although, thinking about it, lots of people have told me that they also suffer from a deficiency of time. They say things like "I haven't got time to talk to you right now." Or "I've got no time for your grotty nonsense." Or even "Whenever I listen to you, time seems to stand still and I start to fear that I will forever be trapped in an endless echoing limbo, with no hope of escape or even a moment's relief from your interminable, annoying, irritating drivel."

On the other hand, I have lots of time, because of a fancy trick that I have developed. Every so often, I change my phone contract to take advantage of all the free minutes that they offer. I have collected all these free minutes and put them in a shoebox underneath my bed. I must have a couple of years' worth now.

I was about to say that it was a pity that I didn't have my shoebox with me, because then there would be enough time for the train to arrive, when suddenly this no was no longer an issue, because the train arrived.



Have you seen any of these stolen roads?
Post your blood now.
Campaigning for the abolition of Tuesdays.
Council sued under Trades Descriptions Act.
Sir Edmund Woggle is Scouting for Boys.
Quality donkeys at bargain prices
Try out the new Swearomatic
'They get awful jiggy, some of these horses.'
We'll find someone to blame
A right load of dodgy villains.


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