Assuming this was from Utter!

“How do I look?” said my wife, the stupid old hag. I despised her, I especially despised her inane narcissism. I pretended not to hear her and carried on watching telly.

“How do I look?” she repeated. She stood at the doorway leaning against the frame in a pose that I suppose she thought was alluring and sexy. She was wearing a bright orange dress and high heels. The dress was too tight and showy for her humpty dumpty physique.

Another one:

The corpse of the twaddle-copter lay half buried  in the orange sand. It occasionally pinged as it’s large rotator blades tried to move. Ravvey Combey-Twaddle, the pilot of the twaddle-copter, looked at the blue cloudless sky. He was tired. It was only few days since the crash but he was already looking haggard. Rough stubble began to grow on his face and his normally pale of complexion was becoming tanned.

He had crashed the twaddle-copter crashed because he was showing off. Stupid air twists and stunts in the sky. All for the sake of gasps and giggle with delight of the crowd. He scolded himself for pushing the twaddle-copter further and further