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-=[ Joke Number 3030 ]=-
| [ << ]|| Essay metaphors || [ >> ] |
| Fresh from the pens of England's finest 15 year olds - they're meant as metaphors and are from actual GCSE essays: |
His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer.
Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.
Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.
He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.
The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.
Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy fields towards each other like two freight trains, one having left York at 6.36pm travelling at 55mph, the other from Peterborough at 4.19pm at a speed of 35mph.
The thunder was an ominous sound, much like the sound of a thin sheet of metal being shaken backstage during the storm scene of a play.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long that it had rusted shut.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
He was lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell Butter from 'I can't believe it's not Butter'.
The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Glenda Jackson MP in her first several points of parliamentary procedure made to Robin Cook MP, the House of Commons, in the House Judiciary Committee hearings on the suspension of Keith Vaz MP.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a lamppost.
The revelation that his marriage had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a right shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free cash point.
He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.
She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room- temperature British beef.
She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightening.
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