Tuesday 28 June 2011

Second Chances

They come to me. I never know when or how many or why, but they come.

Sometimes in bunches like grapes. Sometimes like a solitary pearl shining defiantly in the murky deep.

Tweets.

140 characters.

Some use them to communicate. Others to learn about the world around them. Some impart wisdom. Others encapsulate small chunks of their lives.

And lots of them use those 140 characters to do terrible jokes. Ones that are obvious or nonsensical. Jokes that destroy the nature of comedy. A waste. An affront. A travesty.

I am one such person. And I humbly display my filthy wares before you.

That's right! It's another edition of:

The Tweetest Plum

(Click on the Tweets label at the bottom of this post for more, or go to twitter.com/diamondbadger to get them unpasteurised, straight from the horse's tweet teat).

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Biting nails = pensive. Biting nipples = really, really pensive.

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I take double-yellow lines seriously, which is why I never park on a bee.

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I'm not bitter, but the less said about I Can't Believe It's Not Butter the better.

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Saw a dead hedgehog on the street this morning. I sense that by the time today has finished, I'll be looking back on that as a highlight.

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Triplets always happen in threes.

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I don't think the MBTI is completely useless. But on the spectrum from Wisdom to Bullshit, I'd label it as a strong B.

[Note: This refers to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. I resent having to explain things - Editor/Paul]

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I've made some great strides. One was elegant and dignified, the other involved mailing my shoe to Rhyll and stretching my foot to meet it.

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Why is it that you can never find a pen when you need one? These sheep are EVERYWHERE.

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I'm jealous of the overzealous.

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If you're young, a loud noise may startle you. If you're old, a loud noise may finishle you.

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I feel ready for anything the world throws at me today. (I'm bluffing, but the world doesn't have arms - I think I'll get away with it)

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I don't get on well with subordinate sailors. We never seem to see aye to aye.

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I've been playing a game of Simon Says for the past nineteen years. But I haven't been taking it very seriously. Not since Simon died.

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Books on tape are great for consuming literature on the go. Even better? Books on tapeworm. But watch out - Clarissa might kill you.

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There's nothing to do when standing at the urinals in our office toilets. It's boring. That's why I always carry a kaleidoscope.

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I've always considered myself the even one out.

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Being the black sheep isn't so bad in a family of sheep. But if you're the black sheep in a family of sheepdogs, you're a real pariah.

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When playing the game 'pick up sticks', there's an unwritten requirement that you must first play the game 'put down sticks'.

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I'd never eat a bear's porridge. Think of all the hairs! Goldilocks was a madman.

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God, I miss the Deutschmark.

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I wish I could grow another beard. Imagine that! Double beard! I'd be so manly I'd have to be chained to a wolf.

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A "high five" is a sign of playful exuberance. But apparently it's a no-no to sidle up to somebody & whisper a request for a "big, low one".

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Don't make a mountain out of a molehill, but barn conversions are fine. I don't understand the property market.

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Just been to see Green Lantern - a film so unremarkable that this tweet doesn't even exist.

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Things I enjoy more than clothes shopping: a) eating ash, b) detaching scrota w/ nail-clippers, c) cramp, d) loneliness, e) Glee.

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It's a beautiful day. I can't help but feel I've missed out by pushing my face into the freezer and defaming the peas.

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I'm not prepared for future events. I shouldn't be buffetted into work/obligation/adulthood. I should be able to bloom like a flower.

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I resent it. I posted a letter expressing as much. I re-sent it. Just to be sure.

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It's difficult to shake your own hand. But easy to shake your own conviction. I've already lost faith in that first sentence.

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I've got two left feet. As cufflinks. Ironically, their weight makes it difficult to dance well.

[Note: This is an ugly sentence - Editor/Paul]

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I think the number of injuries caused by stepping on Lego is comparable to the devastation of Pearl Harbor. We should nuke Denmark.

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My left arm feels like a fireplace. I'm worried I might be having a hearth attack.

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I can play the guitar and the piano off against each other.

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If you're a REAL republican, you'll go to Furniture Village and ask for a Cromwell-sized bed. Complacency is the enemy of revolution.

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Much like Little John, Little Richard is enormous. He has a custom-made piano for his massive fingers. Keys the width of bowling lanes.

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I speak fluent skittish.

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"I don't know. I think the 'Home Sweet Home' sign is a bit too on-the-nose" - Gretel.

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I was really popular in the kitchens until the creamy potato incident. After that I was persona non gratin.

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Right. I'm going to give you all eight minutes to retweet my 'persona non gratin' joke. If no-one does, there's officially no Jesus.

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[Nine minutes later...] 

Nietzsche was right.

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I can't be bothered to go to the water cooler. You can drink ink, right?

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Yes, coasters do a good job protecting table-tops. I just wish they weren't so blasé about the whole thing.

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Life is just one long poorly-edited montage.

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Just joined a pleasant army. I'm in Good Company.

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People like funny cat things on the internet. I'm going to start tweeting funny things about cats. ... FOUR LEGS, HUH?

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Imagine a cat trying to make toad in the hole. And its face is all like: "I'm a cat - I shouldn't be doing this".

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Hm. It isn't as easy as it looks. ?

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I'm going to have a shower. "A shower? At 8:14pm?" Yes. I have it on good authority that Batman showers at this time also.

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If you're reading this, your eyes are open.

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I just had an out-of-your-body experience.

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Consciousness isn't really my milieu.

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That last tweet of mine annoyed me. I don't write Frasier, for God's sake. From now on, my tweets will be incredibly crude.

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Mmm... legs. Right, lads?

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(I don't think I'm followed by any 'lads')

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Do you ever use a highlighter pen as fluorescent lighting for a grasshoppers' strip club? Me neither.

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We're ALL on the 'Top of the World'. It's a SPHERE. The Carpenters were IDIOTS.

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I've had a Sigmund Freud action figure in my desk draw for months. Every time I search for a paperclip I realise I've let my father down.

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Look - here he is. Surrounded by rubber bands, which probably symbolise the libido or some shit:

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Whenever anyone says of the deceased "well, he had a good a innings" I like to imagine they're talking about belly-buttons.

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That last tweet didn't make sense, but then neither do shoes made of helium. And the latter are everywhere.

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Ever since I watched The Fugitive, I've wanted to be in a big pipe with Tommy Lee Jones. But according to Make-a-Wish, you have to be ill.

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Switching between Glastonbury and Wimbledon. Because I like to watch failure at both ends of the laundry cycle.

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A cycle doesn't have ends? Well, what about a BIcycle? Does that have ends? Where do you put the lights, then?

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Tennis is the most minimalist of cultural endeavours. Human interaction reduced to a ball exchange.

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I wonder what Ray Liotta is doing right now.

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Morrissey looks like a sitcom dad, forced to perform after losing an implausible bet.

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Watching and , creating a composite being called Murrissey. Of course, it's impossible to be Scottish and vegetarian.

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Fill up ice-cube tray. Place in freezer. Leave overnight. Remove from freezer. Leave for six hours. And bingo: WATER CUBES.

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 Sighs isn't everything.

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It's a grey morning. I hope I can liven things up by dressing as a circus ringmaster and going to space.

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The corners of our coffee table are lethal. Why are they so sharp? Our door handles aren't needles. We don't keep swords in the fridge.

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I bought some shoes, but didn't take the box. Why? Because I care about the planet. My actions have saved a Komodo dragon or something.

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Misquoth the raven, 'We should do this again sometime'.

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Who's more annoying: a) people bragging about the joys of being at Glastonbury, or b) people proclaiming how happy they are not to be there?

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THE ANSWER IS: c) Me, for being irritated by happiness.

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This temperature is ridiculous. Who's up for desecrating the grave of Anders Celsius?

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[On the Race for Life:] 
All those women running in pink. It was like watching the city of Oxford digesting a milkshake.

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But of course the REAL winner of the Race for Life was... I dunno... some woman probably.

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Know you this: sequencing words matter doesn't.

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unless you cut me open and count the rings.

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If you heat a solid, you get a liquid. If you heat a liquid, you get a gas. I'm roughly at the gliquid stage right now.

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I've just eaten a winter coat's worth of naan bread.

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It is possible to have too much of a goo thing.

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Give a man a fish. Go on.

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Nothing like some scaldingly-hot black coffee to show Johnny Hotday who's boss.

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This self-hypnosis tape is TERRIBLE for gift wrapping.

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When you say "I like iced tea", I hear "I would happily murder my husband".

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My new jeans have an unfamiliar and unwieldy button fly. I struggled at the urinal. It would have been quicker to solder them shut.

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When a car kindly waves me across the road, I give a 'thank you' so meek it would be imperceptible to the most powerful electron microscope.

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All day on Twitter, when I've read the word 'hot', I've mentally replaced it with the word 'sexy' and now I'm in prison.

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Surely we should have a siesta this afternoon. For the sake of the economy. My sweat-drenched lethargy has already cost Britain £4m.

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My feet are too hot (i.e. sexy). I shouldn't have worn such thick socks. And furry boots. And shouldn't let this St Bernard sleep on me.

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What's your favourite bird call? Mine is when a Ptarmigan excitedly telephones to tell me he's been promoted.

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Getting the hang of the button fly. Though I did just accidentally attach myself to a small boy's duffle coat. Hoping for a credulous mum.

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What? Why is Usagi Yojimbo playing at ? Oh. It's Rafael Nadal.

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Because he... he looks a bit like a... a rabbit. He does. ... Look, it's hot, OK?

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Someday a real rain will come and wash all this scum off the street. And return these parched azaleas to their pomp!

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I'm doing a rain-dance-dance. But no rain dances seem to be coming. No-one's dancing at all, except that idiot in the mirror.

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I think it's generally accepted that the Top 3 Words With Superfluous 'I's In Them are: 1) Liaison, 2) Plagiarism, 3) Pompeii

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Any font where a lower-case L is indistinguishable from an upper-case i is an abomination. TWITTER MUST ACCOMMODATE MY NUANCE.

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For a left turn, use your indicator. For a RIGHT turn, use your vindicator.

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I'm easily distracted today. I'm like a hummingbird: constantly moving, attractive to look at, sipping on nectar. Humming.

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Bookshops should never stock copies of Utopia. Always leave them wanting More.

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I genuinely once met someone whose siblings were so afraid of Santa Claus being in the house, they opened their Xmas presents in the car.

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Of course, fear of Father Christmas is a common phobia. There's a charity set up to help sufferers. Its patron was Noël Coward.

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I wish people would stop venerating "the taxpayer" as though it's some endangered species. Might as well talk of "what's fair for the biped"

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You don't hear much about the ozone layer anymore. Must have been a baseless panic like the MMR or the rainforests being destroyed.

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Has there ever been a sexy Alastair?

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I never repeat jokes on Twitter due to an absurd false integrity that benefits no-one.

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The word 'bruschetta' is really unappetising. It sounds like bristles and razorblades.

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If you're looking to tighten the skin and loosen the tongue, the best drink to order is a Collagen & Tonic.

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"Oh, that way madness lies! No. No, sorry. Not madness. Bicester. That way Bicester lies." - King Lear giving directions.

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Contract lenses can read their own small print.

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I don't know why anyone would ask for anything other than a waffle cone.

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The most polished play I've ever seen is The Importance of Being Burnished.

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I never think of the witty comeback until AFTER the cremation.

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I could cope with a cape, but couldn't handle a mantle.

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My favourite aspect ratio is 0.0004:90. It's like watching a film through a crack in the door.

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Muppet Babies was based on a play by Arthur Miller. It's all a big allegory of Communism. Also, it's where we get the phrase 'Nanny State'.

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There's a name for people like you. (Don't ask me - check your birth certificate)

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HAPPY NOW?

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