Created by a retired Catholic priest, Old Father Time, they standardised the days of the week so that people would know when to strain vegetables.
Monks hated the new calendar, so went around chanting what day it was in the old one to drown out people telling them the new one.
Julian Caesar made his own so countries he wanted to invade wouldn’t know exactly when he’d arrive.
Fairly useless until Apollo 11 landed and the astronauts knew what day it was.
Newspaper printed by Eddie, the Shah of Iran, to tell people what day it was.
All my troubles seemed so far away.
Only had two days: today, and tomorrow, which was “the day the white gods come across the sea and we trust them so much we invite them in and don’t bother having weapons to hand”. Eventually, tomorrow came.
Every four years there aren’t enough days in the year to accommodate the pointless third place play-off in the World Cup so an extra day is added.
The global yawn at the third place play-off in the World Cup sucks the Earth back in its orbit so an extra second has to be added to compensate.
From AD, the year of our lord, and vent, or vend, to sell. The days that shops are allowed to use the birth of Christ to make vast amounts of money.
Without calendars, there would be no weekends, no Saturdays, and we’d be out of a job. We’d also have damp lettuce.