“Tickets please, Tickets, Tickets please.”
The Persistent ticket collector went round the
bar once more. She wasn’t having much luck.
“Tickets please, tickets please” Not a single person
had a ticket.
“Tickets for what love?” one of the regulars piped up.
At last someone has paid attention she thought.
“Tickets for the end of the world”
“Come off it!” the regular responded. “Tickets for
what?”
The ticket collector decided to redouble her efforts
by going to the characters in the pub in the east end of London just before
closing time.
“Yes sweetie. I’m collecting tickets”
“Tickets for what?”
“Tickets to survive a natural disaster.”
“Well I’ll take one.” Said the regular.
“I’m not selling tickets. My job is to collect
tickets.”
“I’ll have another pint.” The regular said.
By now a group had gathered.
“What sort of natural disaster is it? Another regular
spoke up.
“It’s an unspecifiable natural disaster. But it will
happen just after last orders tonight.” She said again. “I’m here to collect
tickets”
“So where do you buy the tickets? A third regular
spoke up. He was humouring her.
She replied in earnest.”I don’t know where to buy
them. I’m just paid to collect them.”
At that moment, the landlord rang the bell for last
orders. “Drink up gentlemen please”
“No tickets here, Oh well” sighed the persistent
ticket collector “No one will survive a natural disaster.”
At that precise moment the pub was washed away by a
giant tidal wave/ tsunami.
Paul Turner
