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The Daily Drivel

The Daily Drivel is delivered each day without fail or delay to all who select it in their poopages account or subscribe to our email forum. It is compiled from features lovingly contributed by members of pooclub, but we welcome offerings from anybody. And we don't care if it's shamelessly ripped off from some other source.

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Wed 27 Sep 2017 Poem Of The Day  
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Drivel
Don't just read it... write it!

Daily Drivel - Poodate: 6270


+++ NEWS +++ NEWS +++ NEWS +++ NEWS +++ NEWS +++ NEWS +++

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 
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Tuesday 26 September 2017
-------------------------
It's Kate's birthday tomorrow.  For God's sake DON'T FORGET IT!

The Meaning Of Liff
-------------------
CLABBY (adj.)
A 'clabby' conversation is one stuck up by a commissionare or cleaning lady in order to avoid any further actual work. The opening gambit is usually designed to provoke the maximum confusion, and therefore the longest possible clabby conversation. It is vitally important to learn the correct, or 'clixby' (q.v.), responses to a clabby gambit, and not to get trapped by a 'ditherington' (q.v.). For instance, if confronted with a clabby gambit such as 'Oh, Mr Smith, I didn't know you'd had your leg off', the ditherington response is 'I haven't....' whereas the clixby is 'good.'

I Never Knew That
-----------------
American President Calvin Coolidge (1923-1929) used to like Vaseline being rubbed on his head while he ate breakfast in bed




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

Tweep
(Kate)

The cold grey shipping forecast, 
That boomed around the shop, 
Had heeded to instructions, 
When confronted by the mop. 

Running through the autumn 
The cargo gently swayed 
And continued eating cakes 
That the Lub-Lub had just laid. 

The stairs were bent and loveless 
No gander wath the hoot, 
A lonely ship befriended 
By the hard heel of a boot. 

"John O'Groats, be with you! 
Now toss me to the shore," 
The Mandarin sang, he knew so well, 
As he bounced along the floor. 

Beacons they extinguished, 
God pulled up a chair, 
The smell of ulcers called amidst 
The sweetness of her hair. 

And so to end the fable, 
The night shook stormy red, 
And the lion shrugged his shoulders, 
And the Lub-Lub shook his head, 
And they both went off to bed. 


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Tuesday
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September
2017



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