Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Margaret, a spinster, mid-fifties, is at the kitchen sink washing up and looking out of the window. She is thinking of the passing of an acquaintance. Well, of all the things I could think of, one of them was not watching that woman from number sixty-two parading herself on the arm of a swanky looking man in full daylight. Has she no common decency? No sense of grief? And she is wearing red shoes! What is the world coming to, I blame it on the television.   Mind you, I always knew it would come to this. I had a feeling when the funeral was on, not that I attended, not for all the tea in China. Not that I didn’t like the husband, no. It was more I that disliked her.   He was as regular as clockwork. Walked past me every morning at 7.45 on his way to the station and back in the evening at 5.55, always had a cheery smile for me. He worked in the city, Leeds, in one of the big banks, Midland, I think. I hear he was a big noise in property too. Their house is nice eno...

Judge Pebble Presiding The Defendant: Mud Speck (representing himself) The Prosecutor: Paper Scrap The Charge: Trespass of the puddle beside the lamppost on the other side of the road. The Plea: Not Guilty. PAPER SCRAP -  Mr Speck, you float accused of a serious offence here. You are aware that the puddle in question is only an inch deep, are you not? MUD SPECK -  I am. I refuse to further comment on such a shallow charge. PAPER SCRAP -  Mr Speck, this is a cross examination. You are expected to comment. MUD SPECK -  I refer back to my alibi. PAPER SCRAP -  Yes. Your alibi. I would like to clarify some detail. MUD SPECK -  If you must. PAPER SCRAP -  You claim that on the night in question you had...sunk? Is that correct? MUD SPECK -  Yes. To my usual crack in the pavement. PAPER SCRAP -  And the purpose of your visit? MUD SPECK -  I have relatives down there. PAPER SCRAP ...