OK, D-day is four days away but picking the moans out of life every week is no mean challenge.
In fact, I sometimes wonder how I manage to find something new to write about each week.
Well, the answer is that I don't, which is my excuse for bombarding you this week with some of the contents of Donna's Diary of Diabolical Puns.
Over the past three years. I‘ve filled more than 150 pages of the Courier with my weekly Grumpings. It's been more for love than money, too.
Let’s face it, there’s scarcely enough cash floating around in Spain to pay the rant (pun intended, not a typo), never mind finance a full shop at Merca-Donna. So I just do a Lidl a couple of times a week.
Either way, I’ll need to Consum a lot less after my visit to the UK.
How the plane will get airborne on the way back to Spain I really don’t know. My two daughters stuffed me with so many goodies this past week that I expect to became the first Easyjet passenger ever to travel from England to Spain by steam-bloat.
I’ve never been quite sure what people make of my verbal twists – or how many fellow pundamentalists (or is that mental pundalists?) are out there in Courier land. And at what age ‘normal’ children’s brains start to quirk.
Which is why I've never ventured into the world of literature with my bee-utiful brace of bug-standard books.
Before I tell you more about Claude of the Rings and its sequel Lloyd of the Stings, I must tell you how I got hooked professionally by the pun bug.
I was fortunate to be part of the team of journalists that launched the Daily Star in Manchester inn 1978.
Our first-ever issue was featured on Granada TV’s What the Papers Say. Presenter Bill Grundy was renowned for his sarcasm - and I got the full treatment for the masthead I had written for the Star’s embryo Fishing Column.
‘STAR ANGLING...you’ll fall for it hook, line and sinker’, whined Grundy as I choked on a mouthful of corn on the cod.
Anyway, Claude of the Rings and its sequel Lloyd of the Stings, tell the story of a fly and a wasp who live cosily in a swarm corner of an airport terminal.
They become friends and are fascinated by the gigantic metal insects that both swallow up hordes of human beings and also poo them out alive.
To quote the words I’m planning for the fly-leaf, they stow away inside one of these huge creatures and end up in a strange country where they don’t speak the wingo.
Their adventures include being rushed to waspital after drinking too much Budflyzer, having a battle with Spiderman on the web, and ending up in America where they become the stars of a hit TV series called Swat’s Landing.
Oh, I forgot to tell you. Claude's dad Maurice is a gardener who specialises in cutting lawns. His pals call him Flymo.
Not funny? In that case, I'll buzz off.
Published in The Courier (www.thecourier.es) March 28 2014
