I think that an amputated dustbin on the M1 that had a bucket of stale Jaffa cakes and soggy Weetabix thrown at it could jump further than a dyslexic turnip with 4 eyelashes can but I don't really know as I am only a lamppost that grates cheese every Monday evening for £3.99 plus VAT for Steven Jobs and his team at PayPal because my kids are attending a school that encourage bullying a daffodil because porcupines are useless and should be curb-stomped by a liquid water bottle and will get a carton of apple juice and mouldy dandruff as payment from my uncle called Michael Presley the King of Hip Hop and he actually won a game of Hopscotch against an amputated war veteran because he was in a wheelchair that had a turbo washing machine attached that can wash 4 pillows an hour. Whilst on the way to Tescos this morning I met a man wearing curtains and tablecloths and called himself the invisible cloak from Harry Potter but unfortunately I mistook him for a baby and dropkicked him into an ice cream van but at least he wont be hungry because it turns out that the night bedfore he ate an airoplane with a side of spinach because his wife lest him for a talking fridge and now he is unemployed with no friends but I gave him my legal documents for my kidney transplant so when he dies he can at least feel like someone cared for him even though his parents gave him 2 jumpers to wear every night so the belt didn't hurt.