When we were at the Royal Festival Hall a few weeks ago, we needed to use the facilities.
On the way into the loos there is a powder room, and on the wall this:
It says: ‘A Private Act in a Public Place.’
I liked this.
I would like to be one of the Hummus Brothers. I would have an enormously curly moustache.
I might look like this:
A sign we found propped up against a churros van at the back of the Royal Festival Hall, but I would have bigger moustaches, obviously.
Is this really a sneeker, or have they spelled it wrong? I don’t know. I quite like the word sneeker though.
This sign made me laugh, a lot. I know it’s about hair removal, but I love the question; ‘Are you as smooth as you want to be?’
I imagine someone like Peter Stringfellow asks himself this question on a daily basis. Perhaps, as well as removing bum fluff from the upper lip they also offer lessons in how to be more oleaginous, and saying: ‘Well, hellooo, laydeeez’ in fourteen languages.
I am wondering whether the author of the poster wrote this, realising that he had missed a crucial selling point for his courses, or whether someone who hates him nipped in after he had carefully encased his poster in plastic, and whipped out a marker pen just to spite him. I like to think it is a rage induced, drive by marker pen incident myself.
I’m glad my raving days are over. E’s are so much bigger now.
Showing my age here. I always thought Grease was the word.
I took this in one of those fast food restaurants that sells hideous fried chicken. We weren’t eating there. We were simply passing by. The top sign caught my eye and I got quite intrigued by what a ‘peace chicken’ was, and what it might taste like, until Jason called me a ‘silly cow’ because it means a piece of chicken.
I prefer my version.
Imagining a blissed out chicken, happily surrendering to its fate for the good of others.
Finally, two of my favourite words.