My late mother always prided herself on her smart appearance, gloves, polished shoes etc. One morning leaving for work she put her hand round the kitchen door to take hold of her umbrella which hung on the door handle by its loop.
She was stepping out down the street, swinging her umbrella which suddenly felt a little - light. She looked down and to her horror she was actually swinging a large colourful feather duster (like the ones Ken Dodd used to play around with) which had somehow been hung on the usual umbrella spot.
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