Билет № 17

Listen to the joke about how to become an artist and answer the questions below.

1​ Where did the man stop on his way home from the supermarket?

2​ What did the people think of his groceries?

3​ Why couldn't he take his groceries home?

Script

One day my wife sent me to the supermarket to buy some food. On my way home I dropped in an art gallery where there was a modern-art exhibition. The bags of groceries got heavier and heavier. Finally I just left them on the floor.

When I left the gallery, I had forgotten to take the food home. "Where are the groceries?" my wife asked. "Oh, dear", I cried. "I must have left them at the gallery". Immediately, I rushed back to the gallery.

When I arrived there, a lot of people were standing round the very spot where I must have left the groceries. Some of them said, "What a fine piece of art. Do you know this young artist?"

I also wanted to have a look at the fine piece of art, but I couldn't see anything except my groceries.

When I told the owner of the gallery that I wanted to have my groceries back he said, "We have been looking for you. Why didn't you sign your work of art?"

"It's not art", I answered, "It's my dinner".

"Ladies and gentlemen! He's not only a great artist, but he has a sense of humour as well. It's a great pleasure for me to tell you that this man has won the first prize for his fine piece of art", the owner of the gallery said

"Thank you very much", I replied, "but now I'm hungry and my wife is waiting for me. The groceries cost me $ 10. I have to get this stuff home."

"Home!", the owner of the gallery said in amazement. "We have just sold it to that lady for $ 1,500."

Билет № 18

Listen to the story about a lonely postman and answer the questions below.

1​ Did the boys like the postman?

2​ How did the boys decide to help him?

3​ Did Mr. Evans tell the boys about the doctor’s recommendations? Why?

Script

We didn't like our postman, Mr. Evans as he was always shouting at us telling us not to touch his fence.

One afternoon Bill told us that he had seen Mr. Evans kick his dog Rusty. Bill, Tom and I decided it was time to do something about him. So we made a slide just outside Evans’s house. We leant against his fence, and waited for him. As soon as he saw us, he reached the slide waving his arms and shouting, "get off my fence!"

Then he fell down with his bag on the top of him. "Ow!" he said, getting up slowly. "I've broken my arm." We took him to the doctor's and waited for him, hoping his arm was not really broken. When he came out his arm was bandaged.

"I shan't be able to do my work", he said. "I shall lose my job."

We looked at each other. It was our fault. "We'll help you, Mr. Evans", I said. We got up at six in the morning, and met Evans. We carried his post bag, and knocked on the doors helping him with the delivery.

Some weeks later we met the doctor. We were just delivering his letters when he opened the front door and came out. He looked at us with surprise. Then he saw Evans’s arm.

"What's this?" he said, "What are the bandages for? I told you to do as much work with this arm as possible!"

We looked at Evans. "You are not angry, are you?", he said. "A postman's job is a very lonely one. It's nicer to have someone to talk to."