The Last Straw

 

I was driving ahead heading for a tunnel when at the last minute the tunnel moved to the left. Luckily I managed to stop on time. 

Earlier in my journey a tree suddenly jumped in front of me and crossed the road. Followed by a road sign indicating end of the road and a cliff suddenly appearing ahead with a hundred foot drop.

It was the last straw that broke the camel's back. Only I did not have a camel with me because the car was a red sports car with just two seats neither of which could fit a camel.

I did not have a straw either. Not a last one or any other one. Regardless whether it is made of paper like in the old days or of plastic.

Plastic straws are bad because they end up in the sea and are bad for fish. Apparently fish use them like lances and fight each other like in medieval jousting tournaments. They swim at each other straws aloft and then when they meet they hurt each other with plastic straws. It is less dangerous with paper straws like the old days. But paper straws don't end up in the sea; and if they did they would disintegrate quickly anyway.

Talking of straws held aloft I could mention what there is in our loft at home. But I will not because we don't have one.

I will return to plastic, however. How is it that I live inland, a million miles from the sea in any direction, including downwards, yet my plastic bags from the supermarket which I carefully place in the re-cycling trash bin end up in the sea? How does that happen? Why am I being blamed for the plastic in the sea?

Our supermarket gave me a "plastic bag for life". I asked them what does it mean? They said it is a plastic bag guaranteed for use for life. I asked them, whose life? Mine or the plastic bag's? They said they did not know.

They called the manager. He did not know. He phoned the supermarket Headquarters. They did not know. They phoned the supplier of the plastic bags. He did not know. They phoned the manufacturer of the bags. He did not know either. No one knew what it means to say a plastic bag for life.

Eventually they said that I should throw the bag in the re-cycling trash bin and it will end up in the sea anyway and stay there for life.

They gave me a cup of tea whilst I was waiting for all their phone calls. As soon as I drank it I had a sharp pain in my eye. They told me to take the spoon out of the cup first.

I went to see the doctor about my eye. He said, "describe the symptoms."

I replied, "They are yellow cartoon characters on TV. One’s called Homer, and Bart and Marge and …"

He then asked me, "Do you have trouble passing water?"

I said, "I feel dizzy when crossing over a river."

I explained that I had water on the knee. He said I was not aiming straight.

He then asked me a very personal question. "How's your libido?" he said.

I replied, "I've sold that Italian car. Now I have a Toyota!"

 

Eventually, he suggested I stop eating a lot of cheese before going to bed.

 

What a nightmare that was! Neigh ... I tell you. A right nightmare.