I know my friends don’t find me very funny, and I’ve accepted that. The other day we were driving around and saw that thing where shoes are hanging on the telephone wire and I said “Hey, check out those shoes, I hope those cables aren’t…LACED with anything.” Nobody laughed. I mean…I laughed, but I have my own sense of humour, so why not?
In any case, that was the last of it. From now on I’m keeping my jokes to myself. Except…there’s one I’ve been sitting on for ages, and if I don’t tell someone I’m going to explode. I own a classic Bentley…and I get my car servicing done in Bentleigh. A car servicing garage there does the work, and the coincidence is just too much. Every time I leave the house to get something done on the car, I have to announced “Alright, just going to take my Bentley…to Bentleigh. Nye-he-he-he.” And I live alone, so no one can hear me; I just have to say it to SOMEONE, even if that someone is no one.
Sometimes I wonder if the car servicing places down in Bentleigh think the same thing, but they’re maintaining a level of professionalism. They don’t know how my mind works. For all they know, I could be a humourless, grey-souled statue who’ll pack up and take my business elsewhere if I think my car servicing professionals aren’t taking their jobs seriously enough. Maybe every single time I book my car in, they’re all snickering at the wonderful irony of a car named Bentley serviced at a place of the same time.
Next time I’ll have to find a way to let them know that it’s okay when I visit the mechanics. Bentleigh isn’t too far from my homes so it’s not like I’m only going there because I can make a great joke. I need to know that it’s okay to make car puns, especially since their suburb name is so close to an actual car name. Just imagine working in…Fordville. And not being able to make puns about working on Fords. I don’t think that’s a real place but you know what I mean.