Drivel Of Yore

Daily Drivel - Poodate: 7431


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The Daily Drivel is being updated!

Yes, that's right.  We know you've been enjoying the 
Daily Drivel for a long time, but you have to admit it is 
rather in need of a lick of paint.  That's why we have 
produced a brand spanking new and thoroughly enthralling 
publication called Stuff Today.  Loyal readers of the 
Daily Drivel may have noticed that they have already been 
receiving the new exciting and wholly amazing Stuff Today.  
However, because Stuff Today is sent from your new (and 
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might have ended up in your spam folder because your email 
client doesn't yet know how fabulous pooclub.com is.

So, we are advising you to make sure that you can receive 
email from stuff@pooclub.com because some day pretty soon 
Daily Drivel is going to end.

I know it sounds bad but sometimes you've got to move with 
the times, embrace the new, and bid a stoic farewell to the 
old, no matter how cherished it is.  I'm sure you'll agree 
that this move is for the best and you'll enjoy Stuff Today 
even more than you have the Daily Drivel.

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Monday 30 November 2020
-----------------------
Nobbing Day

The Meaning Of Liff
-------------------
EPWORTH (n.)
The precise value of the usefulness of epping (q.v.). It is a little-known fact than an earlier draft of the final line of the film Gone with the Wind had Clark Gable saying 'Frankly my dear, i don't give an epworth', the line being eventually changed on the grounds that it might not be understood in Cleveland.

I Never Knew That
-----------------
At one time, pumpkins were recommended for removing freckles




Poem Of The Day
---------------

Hum Bad Ripple Wrappers
(Kate)

Luscious raspberry standard challengers 
That challenged their way 
Through the Milky Way 
And ended up 
. . . where?

So to the sacred chair 
Where the frog wears a red cloth 
And the unicorn smiles 
And surrounded by ice cream 
And crocodiles. 
And a bell rings 
Time for tea. 
It will take me until quarter to three. 
How I love to be by the sea. 

And now as the ground rumbles 
And a newt tips his straw feathered hat 
And my chair creaks 
And I feel like a wanton cleft. 
My cheek concords into draftsmen 
And my flowers go spongy. 

Hail the magnificent ancient Lord 
Of the Stekkipekkiwimpledrigsters. 
And may you never be hit by low-flying aircraft. 


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The Shit At The End
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