A new addition to the Big Book of Bunkum:
Goldbrick bug (n.) any fool who carries coals to Newcastle and then has the temerity to ask if he can drop off his motherlode at the London Precious Metals Exchange or the nearest Retirement Home for Potty Gold-Diggers
e.g. The goldbrick bug began his wearisome journey on a cold, blistery, wet day (what else would you expect if you lived in Piddletenthride and had to wear welly-boots everyday or get one’s feet soaked in squishy, squashy stuff) ...anyway, to make a long shaggy dog story short... he forgot to pack his colorful map of the United Kingdom not to mention the distinctly vapid environs, his trusty new GPS gizmo with easy-to-read operating instructions in twenty-five languages, and a box of stale tea biscuits foisted upon him by the demented dog-catcher who lives next door; all of which meant that first -- he had a simply wretched time trying to figure out what to do with the anonymous albatross hanging limply around his neck (given to him as a token of affection by a lost mariner, or it it might have been a dodo-bird named "Muggins" that he borrowed from The Museum of Mummified Matter), second - - he had to speculate about why he was carrying a discarded pity pot (full of lame excuses he found in a back-alley somewhere), and third - - he had to cogitate about where a blessedly big bag of jack-hammers came from (that he had reluctantly agreed to deliver to a far-flung friend of a friend who lived in a cottage with a leaking roof and four good-for-nothing robots situated approximately two kilometers south of Affpuddle, England whose longitude and latitude he couldn't recall even if his life depended on it, which it might if he didn't get the bag there in a fortnight).
Contributed by: Inverkeithing Ipplepen, a retired dollwigs hackler from Waterproof, Louisiana (born in Lost Nation but raised in Sandwich Landing, New Hampshire)