top of page
Search

Amazon launches submarine delivery service – Amazon Slime


Amazon has launched a submarine delivery service following a widely publicised photo shoot on the Essex mudflats. The service, Amazon Slime, will use a fleet of specially adapted Amazonphibious vans that can avoid tax at depths of up to a thousand metres and can emerge from the water and take to the road.


Amazon Slime’s marketing director Nat Nautilus said: “This has been in development for some time and we’re delighted to formally announce this enhancement of our existing Prime service. With traffic on our motorways at unprecedented levels we’re discovering that the coastal route is often quicker.”


Where possible the adapted vans can also use the UK’s river network to make their deliveries. As news has spread crowds now line the banks of the River Severn to see Amazon Slime vans surf the Severn Bore. Local historian and Severn bore, Nigel Jones, sets this in historical context, although people have usually left by then.


Image: WixAI

Pie left in vehicle overnight

Despite a window sticker declaring otherwise, a driver’s lovely steak and ale pie was left in his vehicle overnight and has now been stolen.


A strange sense of foreboding overwhelmed joiner Daz as he approached his van first thing in the morning. Something was wrong. The pie.


Daz confessed: “I knew it immediately, against my better instincts I’d left a pie in the vehicle overnight instead of taking it indoors. And now it’s gone.


“As a rule I never leave pastry-based food items in the van. They’re a magnet for hungry chancers, I have a ‘No pies left in this vehicle overnight’ passive-aggressive notice in the window informing opportunists to jog on. I thought I’d get away with it by hiding the steak and ale treat under a stack of valuable power tools, what a fool!"


At the scene Detective Frank Higson, commented: “I’ve been working patisserie on this patch for thirty years. It’s a situation I encounter all too frequently. A workman stops at the bakery on the way home, gets an extra pie and leaves it in the van for a pre-breakfast breakfast. Come the morning, it’s gone. The gangs responsible are organised and use a sophisticated setup of sniffer drunks after closing time. Those pissheads can pinpoint a pie in pig shit in the middle of a pyramid.


“Joiner Daz’s pie will be a thousand miles away by now, deconstructed and sold for parts. The case and crust will be split to form the bases of dozens of hor d’oeuvre and amuse bouche hits, scored in the shadowy, cobbled backstreets of middle-class, Tuscan villages.


“The meat? That will be dried and ground into a fine powder, and snorted by hedonistic businessmen as an aphrodisiac in the plush penthouse suites of opulent far east hotels.


“And the rich dark jus? My guess; right now it’s being seductively licked off the heaving bosom of a high-class hooker on the lip of a crystal blue infinity pool on an oligarch’s billion dollar luxury yacht … or, the thief scoffed it on the spot.”


Joiner Daz deflatedly added: “Well, at least there’s still a couple of mini scotch eggs in the exhaust pipe … what? Oh, great!”


bottom of page