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Sunday, 27 November 2016

The Countdown Is On!!


Christmas presents! My scouse mate has just got his kids a trampoline and mountain bikes off the internet . I asked which web site he saw them on, and he replied, " Google Earth".

We were so poor when I was young kid, I once had a Christmas party at the local launderette because it was bright and warm. The festive game of the day was ‘Pass the Persil’. My mum used to sit up all Christmas Eve, stitching a turkeys head on a kipper.

I’ve been attempting to get rid of all the clutter in the house this week, and flogging stuff off at car boot sales and on the Yorkshire internet auction site ‘Ebay-Gum’ in a desperate attempt to accumulate valuable beer tokens. The house looks quite ‘minimalist’ now, primarily coz it’s empty! Because of this unfortunate farrago, an excuse was urgently required, so I have told everyone that I have suddenly developed a profound interest in the art of feng shui. Feng shui is a discipline with guidelines that are compatible with many techniques of agricultural planning as well as internal furniture arrangements. It’s all to do with your yings and your yangs, which to the expert, are positive and negative influences and all that manner of magnetictic activity in the ether and beyond. I suppose that you would never consider that a couch potato like me would study an ancient art like feng shui, but dear reader, you would be wrong. If you pop round to my house, you would notice that all the chairs face the telly! My house is also near a pub and a betting shop, so this constitutes perfect harmony. Geomagnetism is basic components of feng shui. Proponents claim that feng shui has an effect on health, wealth, and personal relationships. This is where the pub and the betting shop come in.

Stress is such a prolific factor in our lives now that in America (where else?) you can employ a professional worrier. It’s catching on here in the United Kingdom as well. These professional worriers charge five hundred quid per week and for this exorbitant fee, they will do all your worrying for you, thereby leaving you with a totally stress free environment. I thought that this was such an awesome concept that I have employed three of these so-called professional worriers to come and work for me on a personal basis. Of course, you are probably thinking how can I afford £1500 per week? Well the simple answer is, I can’t. But I’ll let the worriers worry about that!

Stop what you are doing immediately! I require your assistance. Plead mitigating circumstances and do the proper thing and tell all your friends about this funny column forthwith. Hasten onward before it's too late, so don't wait. Regale them about me and make them salivate. That's summat you cannot fake. I have to go now because that's my fate. Isn't that great? Cheer up! Christmas is-a-coming! Yule Log on to: You can email me too:


Sunday, 20 November 2016

Seven Dwarfs in Rome....

THE Seven dwarfs go to the Vatican, and because they are the seven
dwarfs, they are immediately ushered in to see the Pope.
Grumpy leads the pack.
"Grumpy, my son," says the Pope, "What can I do for you?"
Grumpy asks, "Excuse me your Excellency, but are there any dwarf nuns in
the Vatican?"
The Pope wrinkles his brow at the odd question, thinks for a moment and
answers, "No, Grumpy, there are no dwarf nuns in the Vatican."
In the background, a few of the dwarfs start giggling.
Grumpy turns around and glares, silencing them.
Grumpy turns back, "Your Worship, are there any dwarf nuns in all of
The Pope, puzzled now, again thinks for a moment and then answers, "No,
Grumpy, there are no dwarf nuns in all of Rome.
"This time, all of the other dwarfs burst into laughter.
Once again, Grumpy turns around and silences them with an angry glare.
Grumpy turns back and says, "Mr. Pope! Are there ANY dwarf nuns anywhere
in the world?"
The Pope, really confused by the questions says, "I’m sorry, my son,
there are no dwarf nuns anywhere in the world."
The other dwarfs collapse into a heap, rolling and laughing, pounding
the floor, tears rolling down their cheeks, as they begin chanting……
"Grumpy shagged a penguin!"
"Grumpy shagged a penguin!"

A few of this weeks gigs....

The Waiting Game....


I sauntered into a restaurant last night and sez: "Excuse me, but is my table ready as yet?" "No, not yet sir. Would you mind waiting for a few minutes?" "No,that's okay” I sez." "Great” he replied “Take these prawn cocktail starters to table six."

The Phone Call. Barmy Albert: Hi. I've had a bad accident at work. Debbie has driven me to the hospital. They may have to amputate my leg.
Non-Stick Nora: Who's Debbie?


When I was young lad, my mum said to me "You can be anyone you want to be!"
It now transpires that the police call this identity theft. My mate Sid had his ID stolen. We just call him ‘S’ now...

You can tell that Black Friday is imminent. How do you know? Tesco has got Easter eggs on sale three for the price of two!


I was born in Gorton,Manchester but used to do loads of gigs in the pubs, clubs and theatres of Blackpool and always fancied a place on Blackpool promenade, then one night I met a young couple in the Pit Bull & Stanley Knife who offered me a self contained flat on the promenade. I moved in that weekend and loved the sea view and decided to have an early night so climbed into bed just before midnight and on the stroke of midnight, the late night tram rumbled past and the flatlet began to shake like a jelly so much so, that I fell out of bed! The next day I met the lady owner while shopping in Tesco and told her about what happened and she didn't believe me! I suggested that she came up to my room to see for herself. At exactly 11-45pm, she came to up to my room. We had tea and biscuits and then got onto the bed together and just before midnight, her husband burst in and demanded to know "What the hell is going on here?" to which I replied "You’re not gonna believe this, but we’re waiting for a tram!"


My mate Dave recently lost all of his fingers in a horrible accident. I can't even begin to imagine how he feels! The surgeon at the hospital told him that with the incredible advancement of medical technology available today, if he had possessed the forethought to have packed them in ice, and brought them with him, they could have been stitched back on. Dave informed the surgeon that he was well aware of this fact. The reason why he hadn’t done this, was that he couldn’t pick ‘em up!


Thought for Thursday: You know your children are growing up when they stop asking you where they came from, and refuse to tell you where they're going.


If you read this weekly column regularly, then you help to make unimportant world decisions dealing with irrelevant, uncomplicated issues that influence insignificant amounts of human lives. Visit my website and continue the quest! Email


Saturday, 12 November 2016

Brexit or Bust?


Well folks, there’s only two more Leeds Utd managers to the festive season. Has anyone got their Christmas tree up yet? I’ve got mine up. Up in the flamin’ loft, where it belongs. At least for another couple or three weeks. There are 12 Days of Christmas. Not a single one of them is in November! Wimmin take note!

A scruffy, unkempt youth with his pants hanging half off his backside, missing two front teeth and looking like it was a personal triumph he had survived past Bonfire Night strutted into the Job Centre to sign on. He marched up to the counter and said, "Hiya. You know, I just HATE claiming benefits. I'd really rather have a proper job. I don't like taking advantage of the system, gettin’ summat for nowt innit." The clerk behind the counter sez "Your timing is excellent. We just got a job opening from a very wealthy man who wants a chauffeur and bodyguard for his beautiful daughter. You'll have to drive around in his 2016 Mercedes-Benz CL and he will supply all of your clothes." " Obviously, because of the long hours, meals will be provided. You'll also be expected to escort the daughter on her overseas holiday trips. This is rather awkward, but you will also have to exercise extreme caution, as the daughter is in her mid twenties and is absolutely gorgeous. The guy, wide-eyed, exclaimed, "You're kiddin’' me!" The clerk replied; "Yeah, well . . . you started it."


The missus asked me if I'd ever regretted saying something. "Yes, I do" I replied.

"Well, what was it then?" she asked.


This bloke called the undertaker one afternoon and sobbed, "This is Mr
Scroggins. I need you to bury my wife."

"Mr. Scroggins? Mr Bert Scroggins?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"Didn't I bury your wife ten years ago?" the undertaker asked.

"I got married again," the bloke sobbed.

"Oh!" replied the undertaker. "Congratulations!"


Late last night, I spotted a bloke in my back garden wearing a riding hat, rugby shirt, golfing trousers and football boots, I shouted "Oi! What's your game then?".


Thought for Thursday: Give a man a fish and he'll eat for a day. Give a woman a fish and all you get is “You call that an anniversary present?”

Fascinating Fact: It seems that the biggest cause of death is being surrounded by your family

May I have your honest opinion? Imagine, if you had to make a choice between winning the Euro Millions, or your wife, then which car would you buy?

If you don't do anything else today, be sure to tell someone about the hilarious comic Austin Knight and this craze-ridden newspaper column! Spread the gospel around the local pub, the lap dancing bar, the dole office, on the train coming back from community service, on the bus returning from visiting your probation officer, and at 30,000 leagues beneath the sea. Okay, forget about the underwater gubbins but do all the rest, that's an order! Visit my website too! You can email me: