it's friday....
14 November 2003, 10:37 AM
#1
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>
> > Paul McCartney is doing his Christmas shopping, and decides to buy
> > Heather a new artificial leg, the latest in new design and
> technology.
> >
> > He wraps it up, takes it home and hides it in the wardrobe.
> >
> > However, Heather is doing her housework a couple of days later, and
> she
> > finds it.
> >
> > So she phones up Paul, and says "That's really nice of you, but I
> hope
> > it's not my MAIN Christmas present?"
> >
> > Paul says "No no no, it's just a stocking filler."
> > Paul McCartney is doing his Christmas shopping, and decides to buy
> > Heather a new artificial leg, the latest in new design and
> technology.
> >
> > He wraps it up, takes it home and hides it in the wardrobe.
> >
> > However, Heather is doing her housework a couple of days later, and
> she
> > finds it.
> >
> > So she phones up Paul, and says "That's really nice of you, but I
> hope
> > it's not my MAIN Christmas present?"
> >
> > Paul says "No no no, it's just a stocking filler."
14 November 2003, 11:42 AM
#4
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> These are supposed to be metaphors from actual GCSE essays:
>
>
> His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking
> alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.
>
> She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches
> that used to dangle from doors and would fly up whenever
> you banged the door open again.
>
> The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the
> way a bowling ball wouldn't.
>
> McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper
> bag filled with vegetable soup.
>
> Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a
> sneeze.
>
> Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in
> the centre
>
> Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
> He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
>
> The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots
> when you fry them in hot grease.
>
> Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
> grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
> York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at
> 4:19p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
>
> The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the
> full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
>
> John and Mary had never met. They were like two
> hummingbirds who had also never met.
>
> The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a
> thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a
> play.
>
> The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.
>
> Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel
> trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.
>
> The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during
> the interview portion of Family Fortunes.
>
> Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
>
> The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan
> just might work.
>
> The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from
> not eating for a while.
>
> Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on
> 31p-a-pint night.
>
> He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a
> real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or
> something.
>
> Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone
> who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."
>
> She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a
> dog makes just before it throws up.
>
> It came down the stairs looking very much like something no
> one had ever seen before.
>
> The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson
> MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure
> made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of the House of Commons, in
> the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz
> MP.
>
> The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
> behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.
>
> The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had
> disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a
> rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.
>
> The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an
> oscillating electric fan set on medium.
>
> It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with
> their power tools.
>
> He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
> she were a dustcart reversing.
>
> She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.
>
> She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
> room-temperature British beef.
>
> She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
>
> Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation
> thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
>
> It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally
> staple it to the wall.
>
>
> His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking
> alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.
>
> She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches
> that used to dangle from doors and would fly up whenever
> you banged the door open again.
>
> The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the
> way a bowling ball wouldn't.
>
> McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper
> bag filled with vegetable soup.
>
> Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a
> sneeze.
>
> Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in
> the centre
>
> Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
> He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
>
> The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots
> when you fry them in hot grease.
>
> Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the
> grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left
> York at 6:36 p.m. travelling at 55 mph, the other from Peterborough at
> 4:19p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.
>
> The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the
> full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.
>
> John and Mary had never met. They were like two
> hummingbirds who had also never met.
>
> The thunder was ominous sounding, much like the sound of a
> thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene in a
> play.
>
> The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.
>
> Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel
> trap, only one that had been left out so long it had rusted shut.
>
> The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during
> the interview portion of Family Fortunes.
>
> Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
>
> The plan was simple, like my brother Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan
> just might work.
>
> The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from
> not eating for a while.
>
> Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on
> 31p-a-pint night.
>
> He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a
> real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or
> something.
>
> Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone
> who can tell butter from "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter."
>
> She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a
> dog makes just before it throws up.
>
> It came down the stairs looking very much like something no
> one had ever seen before.
>
> The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson
> MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure
> made to Robin Cook MP, Leader of the House of Commons, in
> the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz
> MP.
>
> The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg
> behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.
>
> The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had
> disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a
> rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cashpoint.
>
> The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an
> oscillating electric fan set on medium.
>
> It was a working class tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with
> their power tools.
>
> He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if
> she were a dustcart reversing.
>
> She was as easy as the Daily Star crossword.
>
> She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was
> room-temperature British beef.
>
> She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
>
> Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation
> thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
>
> It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally
> staple it to the wall.
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