What’s the chances?

I can see why folk put coincidences down to the hand of fate. Try to work out the numbers governing the odds of coincidence and you quickly run out of fingers, and then it escalates into the realms of trying to explain how big the universe is, what colours smell like, why a Koala isn’t really a bear. Too much, just too much.
However, coincidence sat on my shoulder all day, waiting and watching, no doubt smirking as it swung its pointed tail distractedly from side to side across my back and occasionally tweaking a hair or two on my head, turning them grey.
As you can see, Imagination Land is short staffed and they have to double up on jobs. The management call it multitasking, the fairies an’ that call it taking the piss. I can see a strike looming, in which case there will be no weather, no luck (good or bad) and possibly no consequence from any action we enact. I won’t be relying on that one though, I reckon management would stand in and man the pumps to prevent chaos and lawsuits.

Anyway, coincidence must’ve leapt off my shoulder, both hands thrust upwards in V signs with unrestrained joy at the fast one it’d managed to pull off, and then spent the next hour giggling to itself on it’s way back to base.
Aye, nice one. I won’t forget it in a hurry either.

4 thoughts on “What’s the chances?

  1. There’s that guy again – the one that looks like a cross between a young Ron Howard and a swarthy Simon Peg with undertones of Dave Gorman in there somewhere – ah the joys of sleep depravation – who’d have thought being bunged up with a measely cold all week could be so enlightening.
    ( ô¿ô )
    And yet somehow I knew, I shouldn’t have read this one tonight.
    Now I’ll go to bed with Harry Hill in my head saying:
    “What are the chances of that happening, eh?”

    Memo to self to ease off on the medication

  2. Jeez, I’m a mutant clone from the DNA of unattractive people, I’m so happy.
    I was also taken to task over my appearance yesterday, weight and also wear and tear are apparently increasing I was informed by “friends”.
    Of course, being on the inside looking out means that you don’t give a shit :o)

    Aye man, it’s a spoon of Nightnurse, not a bottle.

  3. See that heading of yours that starts:
    “I never think before I write…”

    It’s all relative, mate – you’re still wearing far better than I am, and you’ll never be as old.

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