Britain's Got Talent - But No Brains

A pensioner who found fame on TV show Britain's Got Talent has vowed to carry on break dancing despite seeing his benefit stopped. Fred Bowers , 73, from Leicestershire, was an instant hit when he performed the act, honed on dance floors seven days a week, in front of millions of viewers on ITV's popular show. But fame, it seems, came at a price for the former soldier, whose £50-a-month Motability cash payments were halted when he was reported and investigators found he did not meet the required criteria.

Mr Bowers is now under investigation by the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP) which has yet to decide if the Loughborough OAP should still get his £70-a-week disability benefit.

The pensioner, who is a regular at clubs in Loughborough, including the students union, said, "it might be unusual but I like doing it, I taught myself. I am doing something for the people, not the newspapers. I have got a fantastic reaction. They have stopped my benefit but it won't stop me from dancing. I have done nothing wrong, but if I have to pay I will pay."

The DWP declined to comment on the case.

Ninja Squirrel

I'TS AMAZING WHAT MOTHERS WILL DO TO

PROTECT THEIR CHILD !

Marriage

Typical macho man married typical good-looking lady, and after the wedding, he laid down the following rules:

"I'll be home when I want, if I want and at what time I want - and I don't expect any hassle from you. I expect a great dinner to be on the table unless I tell you that I won't be home for dinner. I'll go hunting, fishing, boozing, and card playing when I want with my old buddies, and don't you give me a hard time about it. Those are my rules. Any comments?
His new bride said: "No, that's fine with me. Just understand that there will be sex here at seven o'clock every night......whether you're here or not."

(DARN SHE'S GOOD!)

Church Signs

Poem - A Subaltern's Love-Song

Another light-hearted poem by John Betjamen. Joan Hunter Dunn is perhaps the most famous of Benjamen's heroines. The setting is Surrey with its villas and conifers, its prosperous middle-class families, their sports clubs and cars. This time it is a Subaltern, a junior officer training at Aldershot, the nearby army-centre, who sings his song of praise. He is in love with the beautiful tennis-girl, and by the end of the poem he has got himself engaged to her, so his rhapsody is not in vain.

A Subaltern's Love-Song

Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
What strenuous singles we played after tea,
We in the tournament - you against me!

Love-thirty, love-forty, oh! weakness and joy,
The speed of a swallow, the grace of a boy,
With carefullest, carelessness, gaily you won,
I am weak from your loveliness, Joan Hunter Dunn.

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
How mad I am, sad I am, glad that you won.
The warm-handled racket is back in its press,
But my shock-headed victor, she loves me no less.

Her father's euonymous shines as we walk,
And swing past the summer-house, buried in talk,
And cool the verandah that welcomes us in
To the six-o'clock news and a lime-juice and gin.

The scent of the conifers, sound of the bath,
The view from my bedroom of moss-dappled path,
As I struggle with double-end evening tie,
For we dance at the Golf Club, my victor and I.

On the floor of her bedroom lie blazer and shorts
And the cream-coloured walls are be-trophied with sports,
And westering, questioning settles the sun
On your low-leaded window, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

The Hillman is waiting, the light's in the hall,
The pictures of Egypt are bright on the wall,
My sweet, I am standing beside the oak stair
And there on the landing's the light on your hair.

By roads 'not adopted', by woodlanded ways,
She drives to the club in the late summer haze,
Into nine-o'clock Camberley, heavy with bells
And mushroomy, pine-woody, evergreen smells.

Miss Joan Hunter Dunn, Miss Joan Hunter Dunn,
I can hear from the car-park the dance has begun.
Oh! full Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girls hand!

Around us are Rovers and Austins afar,
Above us, the intimate roof of the car,
And here on my right is the girl of my choice,
With the tilt of her nose and the chime of her voice,

And the scent of her wrap, and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
We sat in the car park till twenty to one
And now I'm engaged to Miss Joan Hunter Dunn.

John Betjeman
A Ring Of Bells

Leave It To The Professionals

THINKING OF DECORATING - GET THE PROFESSIONALS IN!

WATCH THE VIDEO TO SEE WHY!

Brainteaser

Today's brainteaser is a test for all you Journal wordsmiths. Study the list of words given below, can you spot the hidden link between them.

Darkest - Package -Wicked - Soak - Tickle -Locked -Hacker

Good luck with this teaser!