Welcome to mr. Aslanov’s pre-ielts lessons 40 stories to retell

 
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STORY 7.
There was once a large, fat woman who had a small, thin husband. He had a job in a big company 
and was given his weekly wages every Friday evening. As soon as he got home on Fridays, his wife used to 
make him give her all his money, and then she used to give him back only enough to buy his lunch in the office 
every day. One day the small man came home very excited. He hurried into the living-room. His wife was 
listening to the radio and eating chocolates there. 'You'll never guess what happened to me today, dear,' he said. 
He waited for a few seconds and then added, 'I won ten thousand pounds on the lottery!' 'That's wonderful!' said 
his wife delightedly. But then she thought for a few seconds and added angrily, 'But wait a moment! How could 
you afford to buy the ticket?'
STORY 8. 
Bill Jenkins worked in a big office in the city, and generally he used to go to the barber's during 
working hours to have his hair cut, although this was against the rules: clerks had to have their hair cut in their 
own time. while Bill was at the barber's one day, the manager of the office came in by chance to have his own 
hair cut. Bill saw him and tired to hide his face, but the manager came and sat beside him, so he soon 
recognized him. 'Hullo, Jenkins,' the manager said. 'I see that you are having your hair cut in office time.' Yes, 
sir, I am,' admitted Bill calmly. 'You see, sir, it grows in office time.' 'Not all of it,' said the manager of the 
office at once. 'Some of it grows in your own time.' 'Yes, sir, that's quite true,' answered Bill politely, 'but I'm 
not having it all cut off.' 
STORY 9. 
A clerk who worked very hard and was usually very punctual arrived at his office very late one 
morning. He had bruises on his face, a scratch on one of his lips, sticking-plaster on his left wrist and thumb, 
and a bandage on his right shoulder. He had also hurt his knees, ankles and some of his toes. The manager of 
the office was not a patient man, and he had been waiting for the clerk, because he had some work to give him. 
When he saw him come in at last, he said angrily, 'You're an hour late, Tomkins!' 'I know, sir,' answered the 
clerk politely. 'I'm very sorry. My flat is on the eighth floor, and just before I left home this morning, while I 
was closing one of the windows, I slipped and fell out.' 'Well,' the manager answered coldly, 'did that take you 
an hour?'