APPLE & GINGER’S ROADSHOW

Hi, I’m Apple…

…and I’m Ginger.

Memba This was telling us of the morning she came into the Dead Bookshop and found she could only just open the door.

The shop floor was full of wooden pallets with copies of a hymn book ordered by a local church, called ‘Mission Praise.’

She said “who’s the ‘Mission Praise fan?,” at which point the manager ran upstairs to his office in tears and locked himself in!”

It was explained that a slight error had been made by a junior member of staff, soon to be an ex-member of staff.

When you order from the publishers, you quote the International Standard Book Number, not the title.

There is one number for single copies.

And there is a different number for packs of 20.

The customer wanted 60 copies.

Guess what number was quoted over the phone.

At 8.30 a juggernaut arrived outside the shop.

The manager signed for the order and then the order just kept on coming, like the brush with the buckets of water in ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.’

When the manager said that “surely there must be a mistake” the delivery man said “probably.”

When the manager said that “surely you can take them all back” he said “I can’t do that, you’ve signed for them.  I can’t take them back without a return slip.”

He didn’t have any return slips on him because he was a delivery man, not a pick-up-again-because-someone’s-made-a-mistake-man.

Eventually they coaxed the manager out of his office, took the noose off his head, helped him off the chair, dried his tears and gave him a really hot cuppa tea.

He kept on babbling something about being ruined.

He kept on trying to work out ways of selling copies of ‘Mission Praise’ on special offer.

Eventually the mood started to get more relaxed and the manager started to see that there was life after ‘Mission Praise.’

When the postman came with a parcel, they persuaded him to unpack it to take his mind off all the copies of ‘Mission Praise’ on the shop floor.

As a tear of joy dripped on to the parcel he opened it like someone who has won the last round of pass-the-parcel.

Inside was another pack of ‘Mission Praise’ and a delivery note saying “order incomplete.”

He instantly ran back upstairs again and locked himself in his office.

They knew he was in no danger of hanging himself because they’d confiscated his noose.

However, there was a rumour he kept a revolver in hi office drawer, in case his ex-wife called.

When they heard what sounded like his desk drawer opening they all ran upstairs, burst through the locked door and found him about to take an overdose.

But, as the only tablets he had in his office desk were laxatives, they didn’t think his life was in immediate danger.

Anyway, Memba This got on the phone and rang the publishers.

They put her through to the member of staff who took the order.

He was on commission and had apparently told them where they could stick their lousy job and was about to live off the commission for quite some time.

It was with quite some sadness that they had to tell him he’d have to return the Porche, both of them and cancel the holiday in Tenerife because the order was a mistake and they were all coming back.

You could hear him sniffing and sobbing down the phone.

And that was the story of the invasion of the ‘Mission Praise’ hymn books.

We’ll have more from Memba This next time, when we’ll be telling you some of the naughtier stories from the Dead Bookshop.

Until then, it’s time to say goodnight to all the nice people around the world.

O.K. goodnight folks.  See you next Tuesday.