All sorts of possibilities for a truly tragic Yuletide back then. And now I see a retired Basil as an utterly obnoxious guest in the newly-acquired hotel…
@bbccomedy@JohnCleese
At this time of year, I always wish @JohnCleese, Connie Booth etc had made a Fawlty Towers Christmas special. I think it would’ve been something pretty special.
“I can’t wait for Christopher Robin’s Christmas party!” said Piglet, jumping up and down with excitement. “I hope it’s as much fun as last year’s!”
“Shhhh!” said Pooh, grabbing Piglet’s tiny pink shoulders. “He told us not to talk about that!”
Things had changed a lot since the old days. The 100 Acre Wood was now the 100 Acre City -
Eeyore was now an in-demand motivational speaker, Tigger was CEO of a successful mindfulness and tantric yoga company and Owl ran a bar called Hooters.
“That was delicious!” said Piglet, licking his plate. “Even better than haycorns! What is it called?”
“Er, I think it’s called pulled pork,” replied Pooh.
“Ooh, what’s that?” asked Piglet.
“Never mind,” said Pooh, sliding the menu under his seat.
The 7 Deadly Twitter Sins
1 Being offended on behalf of someone else
2 Pretending to care about a total stranger’s problems
3 Using phrases you’d never use in real life (familiar much?)
4 Telling someone you’re unfollowing
5 Tweeting while drunk
6 Tweeting while sober
7 Caturday
DON’T DO THAT, DONALD!
The Story So Far - a Thread
(To support this fully illustrated, satirical story of a very naughty, very orange little boy, please check this link, thank you!)
https://t.co/Eqcmiwso8a
Chapter 3
Langdon, 51, ran quickly out of his Harvard professor’s office onto the sun-soaked sidewalk next to the road.
“Taxi to the airport!” he yelled, waving his strong manly arm in the air.
But there was no taxi.
No traffic.
No people.
Except for one.
A giant albino nun.
Chapter 2
“There’s a global pandemic? You need my help? I’m on my way!”
Robert Langdon, 49, hurriedly pulled on his tweed jacket and checked his watch.
The small hand was pointing to seven and the big hand was pointing to . .
“Oh my God” he said “It’s twenty-five to Apocalypse!”
Chapter One
The phone rang.
Strong-jawed, grey-eyed Professor of Viral Symbology at Harvard University, Robert Langdon, 52, picked up the receiver with a manly right hand and answered it.
“Langdon,” he said, handsomely. “What’s the problem?”