The cracking tale of two 'murders' by a bum that I know
I killed two chairs at Christmas. Not intentionally and not the leaders of my two least favourite committees. Both were made of wood.
The first murder occurred in a playground in our neighbourhood where, with friends from our street, we were enjoying a happy Christmas afternoon catch-up.
The chair was a wooden folder, in its senior years, and gave up when I went to sit on it. Fortunately, my landing strip was designed for falling children and with help I tottered to my feet, none the worse for wear save for the sad loss of a slice of