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Amock Comedy Compendium

HITLER’S MOUSTACHE FOUND
Hitler's moustache has been found in the city of Kiev.
It is in the hands of Ukrainian Igor Abigun who inherited
it from his grandfather who was serving with the Third
Ukrainian Front of the Red Army when they swept into
Berlin in 1945.
"My grandfather may have been from Kiev, but he was
no chicken," said Igor. "He and his comrades found
Hitler's bunker and the spot where the fascist dictator's
body was found. It was supposed to have been burnt
but fragments remained, one of which was the
moustache and my grandfather, who suffered from mild
kleptomania, took it. It has been in our family ever since."
Igor insists that
he will never
sell it to
fascists and
mocks the idea
that it has any
powers, though
he admits to
strong urges to
invade Poland
whenever he
handles the relic. To guard against fascist bids when
Igor places it on ebay, bidders will be required to sing
the full version of the Internationale when placing a bid.
The moustache has long been
sought after by neo-Nazi groups
who claim it has mystical powers
and is a necessary symbol for the
formation of the fourth reich. But
Hitler before
moustache.
The moustache will be going as part of a job lot along
with a pair of Eva Braun's bloomers and a signed copy
of the Hermann Goring Cookbook.
By Sir Arthur Conan the Barbarian
It was on the morning of February the 14th that Mrs Hudson brought up a letter which, for once, was
addressed to me and not to Holmes. Being unused to much correspondence I eyed it suspiciously, especially
as the envelope was of a vivid pink hue. I feigned indifference but eventually, and with not much not else to
do, for Holmes had not yet risen, I took a knife and gingerly opened it.
The notepaper too was pink and so powerfully scented that my senses reeled. I unfolded it cautiously and
noted that the writing was decidedly elegant, using a light blue ink. It read as follows:
My Dearest James,
I feel that on this day of love I should reveal to you how I truly feel. I love you. There, I have not beaten about the bush,
but given you the matter plainly, for I am overcome with passion. If you fancy giving me a good seeing to, meet me in the
lane behind the Pavilion Theatre at nine pm tonight.
Yours in amour,
S.H.
As I concluded Holmes came through from his bedroom and sniffed the air.
"Ah, someone has an admirer," he said, stretching himself.
"I don't know what to make of it," I stammered, "I'm sure I have no idea who my correspondent is."
I passed the letter to Holmes who read it with unmitigated glee.
 
 
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