110-year-old man ascribes longevity to hatred of moles

Science News: “Make no mistake,” sprightly centenarian Albert Thomas of Prestatyn told journalists yesterday at a party to celebrate his 110th year, “the good die young. That’s all I can put it down to. I’m not a spiritual person, never believed in a life of good works or all that. I’m a shit, you see?”

Friends and neighbours, who described him variously as ‘cantankerous’ and ‘downright nasty’ got together to wish Albert many happy returns as he officially became the oldest living Englishman.

“The knack of it seems to be this,” he went on, “I never go for daily walks, help no-one, I don’t have a spoonful of honey in my tea or any of that bollocks. I drink scotch, smoke forty fags a day and eat nothing but chips. What keeps me going is one thing: getting those bastard moles out of my fucking garden.”

Albert, who was born the year Queen Victoria died, fought in North Africa in World War II and never married, described the method he has developed to dispatch the unwanted rodents that have blighted his lawn since he first moved into the house during the Attlee administration.

“I tease them out with little taps you see, so when they pop up – bam! I jab ’em with a pointed stick. Then I put ’em on a fire. So help me God, I will not rest until there is not one bloody mole left here or anywhere else in Prestatyn.”

“Now then, I think I’ve answered quite enough of your questions, right? So just piss off. Go on – fuck off the lot of you.”