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Traffic Jam
All of the stress with none of the time-wasting. | |
Living on the glorious south coast of England, I am often witness to the wondrous spectacle of the Bank Holiday weekend traffic jam. This miracle of nature entails thousands of people sitting in a tailback for several hours in order to spend an hour and a half on the beach before they repeat the process
again on the way home. Now I'm not knocking my home town, it's a great place but it aint that great and I've pondered on this remarkable occurrence for some while now. Inevitably I have come to the conclusion that it can only be explained by some incredible addictive alchemy formed by the combination of petrol fumes, crying children, frustration and sunlight.
It seems to me, therefore, that there's a huge market potential in developing an edible substance that combines all of these elements, hence Traffic Jam. A delicious sugary treat that smells of petroleum and perhaps containing caffeine for that 'why is the world going so slowly when I'm ready to rock and roll' feeling. Hmm! Sounds a bit like Pokey Pola.
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Nothing fattening, please. I don't want a spare tire. |
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I just read an article somewhere claiming that the average commute has been right about half an hour for twenty centuries. As transport gets more efficient, people commute further. |
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The same is probably true of how long people are prepared to spend travelling to a holiday destination. Remove the traffic jams, and people will just bypass your town in favor of, say, Cape Town. |
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...line of perceptibly unmoving traffic on a motorway. |
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So would you spread Traffic Jam on a Road Roll(-er) ? |
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Po: In what way does this differ from a regular motorway ? |
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Star is in the USA where cars actually move on motorways |
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Lubbit: "Lost it's rigour" ? Does that mean that the corpse has been lying round for a while, and gone all flexible again ? |
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[lubbit]: It has also lost it's pedantry. |
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Lubbit: "It has also lost it's pedantry" .... no apostrophe in the "its", I belive, Lubbit. |
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15 - love. New balls please. |
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That was my point. <sigh> |
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Lubbit: Don't worry, you can get creams to rub on it these days. |
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Angel: Sorry, misread the anno. Sincere apologies. |
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lubbit, although the title is indeed a pun (fairly obviously) the idea itself is not. So I have taken the liberty of deleting your m-f-d anno. |
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Dr, I concede - my apostophes were so impositioned as to overshadow any point that I may have had. |
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Mob rule triumphs again. I'm so proud!
Back on the main point again. I'm not sure what ingredient to include that would reproduce that pounding headache you get when you're trapped in a confined space with crying, shouting and arguing children. Thumbwax is our resident expert on thumping headaches. Any ideas 'wax? |
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just make sure you have a hangover, or somehow prepare for consumption of the jam by becoming dehydrated enough for your brain to do that slight shrinking thing. That'll hurt. Don't know whether it'll be the pounding type though. |
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It would taste foul, like drinking engine oil, but the idea is
good. I have been blessed with the fact that the last time
I mixed with the Great British Holiday Crowd was three
years ago whilst going on holiday in the West Country:
since then I have spent all my holidays abroad and do not
have to cope with them. |
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Traffic Jammy Dodger - giving you a bun for this and using
the word Edjit... Do you know what it means "to come up
the Lagan in a soapy bubble ?" |
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