It was a crisp and cold winter morning when I left home to go and buy a newspaper. I walked down the hill past the Dutch florist, Two Lips from Amsterdam, past Larry Lamb the butcher, John Doe the baker, and Bee Wax the candlestick maker; then I turned into the industrial estate past Ivor Flood the plumber, Woody Stack the carpenter and Walter Sparks the electrician.
At this point I crossed the road just where Doug M Deep the funeral director is, and I walked further down the hill towards I Pullem the dentist, and Peeping Tom the optician.
It was there that I saw Doctor Penny Cellin speaking to her assistant Beddy Pan. I said "hello" to both of them and walked on towards the flea market where Ivan Itch and Dina Scratchit were selling anti-mosquito ointment. Next to their market stall was Nick O'teen the tobaconnist selling some cigars to Vladineer Burnitoff the fire eater from the circus who had just arrived in town.
I like the circus, don't you? I'd been there the previous day and saw Vladineer and all the other acts. There was a trapeze artist called Alfred F Vertigo, and a couple of twins with their equestrian act called Neigh Neigh Nannette, and a French woman dancing on a pogo stick called Madame Leggert.
Best of all I enjoyed the two clowns called Crackle and Pops. They had a third partner called Snap but he died suddenly without saying goodbye by collapsing into a bowl of Cheerios.
There was also an escapologist act trying to escape from an oven called Harry Poudini, and a Yoga expert named Gett Knotted.
As you'd expect I suppose there was Plato the plate spinning man with Crashit his assistant picking up the broken plates; and the lion tamer Claudia Headoff who for some reason had her head in bandages.
People really applauded wildly when Andy Gestion the sword-swallower came on. It was particularly amusing when he sat down to swallow a long sword and somehow got pinned to the chair.
Anyway, I digress. At the market where I was I saw Ava Carrott setting up her vegetable stall and Rosy Pear at her fruit stall. They said "hi" as I passed by and I waved at them. Next to them was Mad Era setting up her cake stall too.
A little further down the road I saw the owner of the new Pasta House Restaurant, a Scotsman called Mc Aroni. He was talking to the tattoo artist, the very diminutive Too Loose Le Trick from Montmartre in Paris. He is so short that he can only tattoo up to peoples' knees. He left Paris because people said he could not keep his nose out of peoples' private business.
At the crossroads I met Rusty Nail the acupuncturist. He always gives me the pins and needles. I hear he also now does ear-piercings whilst you wait. No longer do you now have to go back the next day to collect your ears. He also puts studs, rings and such like decorations all over peoples' bodies. He told me some people have rings pierced in the most intimate of places. I guess it brings a new meaning to leading people by the nose!
I walked past the town's solicitors, Law Law Land, and I eventually arrived at the newsagent, whereupon I told the owner, Thadeus Phat Rowbottom, "you've got an unusual name, haven't you?"
