If the dinosaurs had Olympic Games Tirex has shown excellent results in the sprint and the high jump, but failed completely in the push-ups …

The ratchet string case - Detective Spark appears 'With all his money he could find a better place to die,' murmured Inspector Irving bending over a still figure on the floor. He cocked his head to the side trying to look into the dead's face without touching the corpse. 'And a better time,' remarked Spark thoughtfully looking through a dusty window at an incessant rain. 'And, maybe, better way,' he added. Irving straightened his back and turned to Spark. 'Did you know him?' 'No,' Spark shook his head. 'Just heard of, like all of us.’ 'So, who gave you the address?' Irving moved slowly across a dirty room towards Spark. 'I've got an anonymous call,' Spark answered evasively. 'Well, well,' Irving grinned, 'You feed your moles with fat worms and not vice versa, don't you?' 'Honestly, you, Inspector, personally do not resemble a worm,' Spark smirked, 'but some of your colleagues do.' 'Alright, let's move along, shell we?' Irving quickly switched the subject. 'So, before we call the team, how, do you thing, he died?' 'She drank him to death, then strangled,' answered Spark shortly. 'She?' Irving turned on his heels towards the corpse. 'You know, in his case, you are right. There are dozens of women in this city who’d love to do it. Bravo!' Inspector chuckled. 'Go on!' 'Strong move,' Spark nodded approvingly. 'But then, tell me, where she did it?' 'What do you mean?' Irving shrugged his shoulders. 'In this room, of course. Look at the furniture, traces on the floor, at...' 'You are wrong, Inspector,' Spark smirked again. ‘It happened on the other side of the city.' ‘Of course,' Irving smirked too. 'I had to know. Then, like a zombie, he marched all way through the city attracted by the heat of our brains!' Irving laughed loudly. 'But anyway,' he continued 'I haven't got enough imagination like you, colleague.' 'No imagination at all, Inspector,' Spark smiled, 'only bare facts. Just look at that corner, and you'll agree. And, by the way, thank you for calling me "colleague." (probably) to be continued

Conditionals + wish 1. If all films were made in 3D, film companies would spent much more money on filmmaking. I wish it would never happen, because ticket prices will be even higher. 2. If downloading films on the Internet was completely legal, people would save more money for popcorn. I wish I would eat popcorn every morning, but I'm on a diet. 3. If film stars were paid half of what they are paid now, we could save even more money for popcorn! If only the tickets cost less! 4. If indies had their own Hollywood, there would be only bicycle lanes, no motorways. I wish I would travel there one day. 5. If modern cinema were less commercialized, we'd see more diversity in the film industry. If only today’s scripts were not so dull! 6. If animals could make films, they would grab all cinema prizes in the world. I wish I saw one of their films. 7. If the cinematography weren't invented, people would go to the theatre instead, as two hundred years ago. I wish I had lived in those times!

Father Themes came around - retelling a story An English lord sits in a chair near the fireplace, puffing at his old pipe and reading an ironed newspaper. His servant rushes in, like mad, shouting and waving his arms. 'Sir! Sir!' the servant cries, 'A disaster! A flood! The Themes! It overflowed its banks! The water is rising! We'll drown in a moment!' The lord puts aside the newspaper, withdraws the pipe from his mouth, and addresses the servant in a calm voice: ‘What happened to you, Bartholomew? Please, never forget the etiquette. Now leave the room, then tell me the gloom. But properly.’ (Yes, this lord spoke in verse.) Abashed John walks out. A minute later he appears, neat and prim, opens wing doors and announces in a ceremonial voice: 'Sir! The Themes!'

A shaggy dog story told by the dog itself A man with a dog goes into a crammed pub. 'Hey, folks!' he shouts, 'I've got a talking dog!' A murmur of distrust spreads across the room. 'Rubbish!' one man exclaims. 'I'm ready to bet,' the dog's owner replies. 'One hundred pounds on stake!' They make a bet. Other people want to bet too, but the dog's owner refuses. So the crowd just stands back and watches the show. 'Come on, dear, tell us something' the owner asks his dog kindly. The dog looks happily at him, wags his tail, but he does not say a word. 'Oh, please,' begs his owner, 'just a few words... or we're gonna lose all our money.' Nothing. The dog owner gives money to his opponent, drinks a glass of whiskey and dejectedly goes away. They turn the corner. 'You let me down, didn't you?' the man says sadly to the dog. 'What's wrong? We'd made a deal: we come in and you talk. Hadn't we?' 'Don't worry man,' the dog objects. 'Just imagine how many cash we'll grab when we come there tomorrow!'

Kill list - 2011 movie review The beginning was quite promising. The relations of Jay and Shel, their family life, sincere love and strained relations, quarrels and reconciliations looked very natural. I could even imagine them as my fictional neighbours. Jay's posttraumatic syndrome is quite convincing too. Although, I think a former S.F. man would have had much better options to feed his family, maintain Jacuzzi and buy gifts for his beloved son, rather than become straight away a hatchetman. However, let's do not forget about his smoldering, unrealized anger the roots of which disappears in a mysterious dusty file. It's all right up to this point. But then the film becomes more and more schematic and imitative. It roams somewhere between 'In Bruge', 'Wicker Man' and 'Pulp Fiction'. Two very kind hitmen, at least one of them with P.T.S.D. A Swedish woman. Bloodthirsty ancient rites. A hump! Wrong shot. A chase in the tunnels. A straw! A top-drawer man with blonde, combed back hair who impersonate the absolute evil (not only him, indeed). Michael Smiley who succeeds in some way to look like Tim Roth. But the main question remained unanswered. Even genuine madness has its corrupted internal logic, its ill legitimacy. The final question 'why?' had left unclear for me.

English joke - retelling a story A man came home later than usual. 'What happened?' his wife asked. ‘You know, dear, I went to the bus stop, as usual, and met a pigeon.' 'A pigeon?' his wife chuckled. 'A pigeon. What a surprise! You've seen such a thing before, I guess. Haven’t you?' 'To be honest, no,' the man replied. 'It was an extraordinary bird. He spoke perfect English. We had a chat for a while. He was a very pleasant interlocutor.’ 'Oh, was he?' asked his wife in great surprise. ‘It must've been amazing.' 'It really was,' confirmed the man. ‘I was so impressed that invited him today to have a dinner with us.' 'Oh, how cute,' the wife said. 'I'd like to prepare something speciall for that pigeon. A salad with a lot of seeds would be nice, I imagine. When is he supposed to come?’ ‘At eight o'clock,' the man said. 'It's all right,' his wife replied, 'I've got plenty of time.' At quarter to eight the man and his wife sat at the served table and looked at the clock. But nobody appeared at eight. Neither at half past eight. Nor at nine. At quarter past nine the doorbell rang. The man came to the door and opened it. There was a little white pigeon standing outside. 'Why are you so late?' the man asked the pigeon. 'I'm deeply sorry,' the pigeon said, 'but the weather was so nice that I went on foot.'

Conditionals Had I known that our new office courtier is a talking hippopotamus, I would never have asked him by phone to pick up those fine porcelain vases from a boutique shop.

Gerund, reported speech The dentist said Harry had broken his stupidity tooth while trying to open a bottle of beer with his molars.