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Monday, 12 November 2018

What is going on?

                                          


Have you noticed all the leaves are falling from the trees? What is going on? Is Putin up to summat, or has that barmy bloke in North Korea fired some manner of missile that has caused poisonous flora and fauna to come cascading down the atmospherically tightly packed isobars and ridges of low pressure moving in from the arctic wastelands? Either way, Theresa May must grasp the nettle and send Boris round with a big brush!



My good lady wants me to take her to Las Vegas to see The Temptations for Christmas. I'm going to Primark to get her the four tops, instead. She sez I could get her anything from The Body Shop. So I got her a front nearside wing for a Ford Focus. No doubt it’ll be the wrong colour. Wives eh! How hard can it be to boil a slice of toast?


                                         

The missus lost her last job through having rheumatism of the shoulder and consequently couldn’t throw the harpoon any more. She’s managed to get a temporary job over the Christmastide period. She’s going gritting over Woodhead.



I was watching Peppa Pig yesterday morning and the wife casually sauntered in and turned off the telly. How childish is that?

                                                      


Cockney folk take note! Regarding ‘Knees Up Mother Brown’. Since time immemorial we northerners have been alarmed to witness your haranguing of an elderly woman. Not only do you insist that the hapless matriarch is obliged to position herself beneath fixtures and fittings, but you also see fit to threaten her with below hip amputation should she have to stoop to do so. Your unfeasible request is surely nigh on impossible to be acceded to whilst sustaining rigidity. Failure to address these shortcomings will result in my obligation to report you to Social Services for abuse. END OF RANT!



I have downloaded Fleetwood Mac voice onto my SatNav. It keeps saying, "You Can Go Your Own Way" wherever I am. So I'm constantly lost! I hear they’re launching a new Sat Nav specifically aimed at old-aged pensioners. When you get where you’re going, it reminds you what you went for. Fascinating!
                                       



I’ve decided to take up a hobby, in order to alleviate the monotony of an otherwise dull day. Barmy Albert has strongly recommended Archery. I walked up to the desk in the leisure centre and asked where to go for the 'Archery for Beginners' class. "Just follow the arrows on the floor." he told me. Isn’t life grand when you’re barmy!

                         


Last night, there was a bloke in my garden wearing a rugby shirt, golfing trousers, tennis shoes and goalkeeper’s gloves. I shouted "Oi! What's your flamin’game".

                                       


Warning: If you receive an email from a website selling tickets for the Spice Girls Reunion World Tour, do NOT click on the link. If you do, it takes you to a website selling tickets for the Spice Girls Reunion World Tour. So exercise extreme caution!



Wit is often a mask. If you could peer behind its gossamer façade, you would find either genius meandering or chutzpah sauntering. That’s why you should never let your mind wander. Summat that small shouldn’t be out on its own. Nurse, fetch the screens! Visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com or email me: comedianuk@sky.com

                                 

                            




Monday, 5 November 2018

The Genuine Emergency....

                                                  

I phoned Slimming World and sez: “It’s a genuine emergency, can you send somebody round?” They replied: “Of course, we have got loads of them!”

I’ve put on acres of weight over the summer, primarily because I’ve had a lot on my plate. I thought that I had an overactive knife and fork. I visited the doctor and asked him what I should do. He advised me: “Don’t eat anything fatty”. I sez: “Do you mean like kebabs, pizza, cheeseburgers or pies and chips?” He replied: “No. Don’t eat ANYTHING.... Fatty!”

                                               


In a murder trial, the defence barrister was cross-examining the coroner: "Before you signed the death certificate, did you take the pulse, listen to the heart or check for breathing?" "No." "So, when you signed the death certificate, you weren't sure the man was dead, were you?" "Well, the man's brain was in a jar on my desk, but I suppose he could have still been practicing law for a living."



True or False: Kerry Katona doesn't actually own a cat?



The missus appears to have two major problems:

1) Nothing to wear.

2) No room for all of her clothes.

                                  


You know you live in a posh area when the kids throw quail eggs at your house. When it’s so posh that they eat fish and chips out of an attaché case and they have fruit when nobody is ill. Poor folk used to own horses and rich people had cars. Now it’s the other way round.



Maths made simple. If you have £100 and your missus has £50, then she has £150. I always keep a photo of the wife and kids in my wallet. It reminds why there’s no flamin’ money in there!


Jeremy Kyle show headline: "Did my mum try to drown me as a baby?" – No. You may not be used to it, but it's called a bath. You can tell who wears the tracksuit bottoms in that family!


                                 

Famous Quotes: "Hang on! Where's the triangle player disappeared to?" - Conductor of the Bermuda Philharmonic Orchestra.

A lorry carrying incontinence pants has shed it’s load on the M67 at Denton. Police are warning of delays due to rubber knickers. I’ll get me hat and coat...

The missus (or Jurassic Park in knickers, as I lovingly refer to her) asked me if I would go to the local Co-op. She gave me strict instructions. She said, "Could you go and get one litre of milk, and if they have eggs, get a dozen” I dutifully returned with twelve litres of milk. She looked at me with much disdain, then ranted, "Why did you buy 12 cartons of milk?" With all the dignity that I could muster, I replied, "Coz they had eggs!"

Wit is often a mask. If you could peer behind its gossamer façade, you would find either genius meandering or chutzpah sauntering. That’s why you should never let your mind wander. Summat that small shouldn’t be out on its own. Nurse, fetch the screens! Visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com or email me: comedianuk@sky.com

                                    



Monday, 29 October 2018

Grace...

             

Mobile phones are not allowed,

Coz people who use them, talk too loud,

This evening is about friendship and good food,

So, please turn them off and don’t be rude,

If you still feel you must use your phone,

Then dial a cab and f**k off home!



Friday, 26 October 2018

The Firework Party....

                              


Barmy Albert’s firework party was a complete disaster. "I don't understand it!" He opined. "They all worked fine when I tried them out yesterday,"

When I was little my mum used to put food on a spoon and say “The trains coming, the trains coming!” I would eat the food because if I didn’t then she wouldn't untie me from the railway track. I’m still always late and prone to being shunted into the sidings. Isn’t life grand when you’re barmy!
                                      


Meanwhile at Tameside Hospital: Doctor; “I'm just waiting for your X-Ray”. Non-Stick Nora: “But I’ve never dated anyone called Ray.” Doctor: “And we need to do a brain scan!”

Twenty years ago I asked a lovely girl out on a date. Then, yesterday I asked her to marry me. Unfortunately, she said refused on both occasions and reminded me about some kind of a restraining order.

                                             


I find that knowing the difference between "chalk and cheese," is advantageous when playing snooker.



Jesus walks in a restaurant with all the disciples and asked the maître d' for a table for 26 people. The maître d' sez: “But there are only 13 of you.” Jesus replies: “Yeah, but we all want to sit on the same side....”



Breaking Showbiz News: Samuel L Jackson had just passed his driving test. From now on he'll be known just as Samuel Jackson


                                        

If any of my readers have been accused of being born in a barn and would like to discuss the matter, then never forget that my door is always open.



I like playing chess with the old men in the park. Sometimes it's hard to find 32 of them though, especially now it’s getting cold weather. It was so cold last weekend, I saw a Labrador frozen to a lamp post.



Paid stupid money for pet insurance and now they won't pay out when my little dog Alfie crashed the car. He’s a really clever dog is our Alfie. When he has a wee, he puts both his front paws on the wall and does it like a standing up, like a human being. This woman asked me how long he’d been doing it like that, I sez: “Ever since a wall fell on him!”



Missing items: I would like to tell the thieving individual who stole my train set, what goes round.... Furthermore, to the geezer who nicked my anti-depressant tablets. I hope you’re happy now!



Tameside Police have confirmed that a bloke who fell into a combine-harvester whilst trying to steal it, has been bailed!



They call it a "Selfie" because "Narcissistic" is too hard to spell. They don’t like it when your authenticity is louder than their facade. Whoever stole my selfie stick needs to take a long look at themselves. Carry on chortling! You can visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com and continue the quest! Email me: Comedianuk@sky.com


                         

Friday, 19 October 2018

I SPOKE TO YOU IN WHISPERS By Neil Andrew



I SPOKE TO YOU IN WHISPERS
By
Neil Andrew

I spoke to you in whispers
As shells made the ground beneath us quake
We both trembled in that crater
A toxic muddy bloody lake
I spoke to you and pulled your ears
To try and quell your fearful eye
As bullets whizzed through the raindrops
And we watched the men around us die
I spoke to you in stable tones
A quiet tranquil voice
At least I volunteered to fight
You didn't get to make the choice
I spoke to you of old times
Perhaps you went before the plough
And pulled the haycart from the meadow
Far from where we're dying now
I spoke to you of grooming
Of when the ploughman made you shine
Not the shrapnel wounds and bleeding flanks
Mane filled with mud and wire and grime
I spoke to you of courage
As gas filled the Flanders air
Watched you struggle in the mud
Harness acting like a snare
I spoke to you of peaceful fields
Grazing beneath a setting sun
Time to rest your torn and tired body
Your working day is done
I spoke to you of promises
If from this maelstrom I survive
By pen and prose and poetry
I'll keep your sacrifice alive
I spoke to you of legacy
For when this hellish time is through
All those who hauled or charged or carried
Will be regarded heroes too
I spoke to you in dulcet tones
Your eye told me you understood
As I squeezed my trigger to bring you peace
The the only way I could
And I spoke to you in whispers......

The Brexit Gubbins....

                               


Breaking News: Theresa May has announced that the Brexit transition period will be extended until all leave voters have died.



All this Brexit gubbins is driving me doo-lally! Isn't it about time someone called in Noel Edmonds to sort out this deal or no deal thing? Furthermore, will my continental quilt still work when we leave? Moreover, the big problem seems to be with Irish boarder. Well, if he hasn’t paid his rent, then just evict him!

                                         


Because I suffer from dyslexia, everyone has always insisted that I’d be totally useless at poetry. But I’ve proved them all wrong! Just last week, I made two jugs, a vase and a bowl.



What is the difference between a wife and a crossword? You can normally work out where you went wrong with a crossword. She reckons that I possess an immature nature, coupled with a childlike mentality and that we must set some time aside to discuss this unfortunate problem. Now as if that's gonna happen at the beginning of the conker season!

                                   

                                                   

I've been having real problems with nuisance phone calls lately. The most common one seems to be. "You said you'd be home from Wetherspoons three hours ago!"



Yesterday, I opened the mail and received a photo from a speed camera in the post.  I sent it back immediately. It was of poor quality and far too expensive.

                                                           


Barmy Albert drags a huge metal box, covered in cobwebs and dead spiders to the Antiques Roadshow, when it was recently visiting Buxton. "Where did you get that from?", the expert asks. "It's been in my loft for fifty-odd years. I think it's a valuable family heirloom", says Albert. "Do you have insurance?" asks the expert. "No, should I?" asks Albert. "Yeah", replied the expert, "It's your water tank."



On a packed train from Manchester and a very attractive young lady gave me a huge smile.
It made me feel young again! Just two minutes later, she stood up and offered me her seat.
Made me feel old again...

                                   


Top Tip: Start preparing for Christmas early by falling out with all your friends and family now!



In a reflective mood, I surmised that as I get older, I begin to remember all the people I've lost along the way and say to myself that maybe a career as a tour guide wasn't for me...

                                             


Mark Knopfler arrives home carrying a large ornate picture frame and a bag of chips. His missus sez: "Where’ve you been all day?" He replies, "I was at Sothebys and acquired a rare French impressionist painting and I called in the chippy on the way home." "How much cash have you squandered this time?" "Absolutely nowt!" exclaimed Mark, "They were avid Dire Straight fans, so I got the Monet for nothin' and the chips were free."

                                         


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 http://www.ComedianUK.com and continue the quest! Email me:comedianuk@sky.com



                                     


Sunday, 30 September 2018

The Showbiz Scenario...

                                     
                                 

Artistes! Listen Up! When you’re setting up all your gear at a club and you feel that your job is pointless, remember there's a bloke in Germany that puts indicators on BMW’s.

So you're told by the panel that you've got no talent whatsoever and you won't get anywhere in showbiz. You walk off stage and the first person you see is Dermot O'Leary.

Breaking Showbiz News: Dire Straits and Chris Rea are joining forces to form a new band. I’m not sure what they’re gonna be called...

I was never going to find love in my local nightclub. All the girls that were there were looking for was security. At least that's what they shouted, every time I went near them.

Barmy Albert started a new job. He was amazed! He told the supervisor, "To tell you the truth, I cannot believe I'm working in the United Kingdom with all of these different languages. It’s so cosmopolitan! Who is that guy over there?" "That's Pawel." The supervisor replied, "He's Polish.” "Wow!" Albert replied, "Fair enough. What about that bloke standing over there. What language is he speaking?" "That's Gabor. He's Hungarian." "Okay." Sez Albert, "What about that fella over there, mumbling to himself. What flamin’ language is he speaking?" The supervisor sez: "That's Bob, he's a Geordie."

                                 


The missus asked me what I was Googling on the PC. "I sez: "I'm looking for some cheap flights," "Oh that's brilliant!" she replied. "Have you had any luck? I'll help you if you want." It's weird coz she's never, ever shown any interest in darts before now.

You know when you’re on the khazi, then suddenly realise that there’s no bog roll left, so you have to get up and do that little waddle, with your undercrackers around your ankles to get a new toilet roll? Well I got 100 yards from Aldi, afore the police stopped me....
                                     
                                             


The missus when we first met: "I love laying my head on your chest when you're sleeping so I can hear you breathe and your heart beat" The missus today: "I recorded you snoring,so you can hear how loud you are and why I can't flamin’ get to sleep, any night!"

My grandson said, "I just don't understand girls." I told him, "Don't worry that will change."
"Will it?" "Yes, when you get older, you won't understand women."

I've just found out the name Niamh is pronounced 'Neve'. Quite honestly I'm finding it very hard to beliamh. Matron, fetch the screens...

One day, you’ll just be a memory to some folk. Do your utmost to be a good one. Be aware that nothing lasts forever. So whoop it up, drink it down, take chances, avoid the drama and never have regrets, because at some point, you’ll have done exactly what you wanted to do. Alternatively, if you really want to follow your dreams, then go back to bed.  You can visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com Email me too: comedianuk@sky.com   Now, get back to work!


                              



Saturday, 22 September 2018

Marriage....

                             


I sez to Barmy Albert, “You seem a tad depressed, matey.” He gazed at me with a saturnine grimace and declared, “I've just got old, all of a sudden! Moreover, I've had two bypass surgeries, a hip replacement, new knees, got dodgy diabetes. I'm half blind, can't hear nowt proper, I’m taking ten tablets a day that make me dizzy, winded, and subject to blackouts. Sometimes, I can’t remember what the flamin’ hell I’m doing. I’ve got poor circulation that causes pins and needles in my hands and feet . I can't remember if I'm 65 or 82. Plus, I’ve lost all my best mates. Life is terrible!” I sez to him, “Look on the bright side Albert, at least you still have your driving license and new knees is good news!”

                                 


What is the difference between the missus and a crossword? You can normally work out where you went wrong with a crossword....



I find that knowing the difference between chalk and cheese, is advantageous when playing snooker...

                                            


I like playing chess with the old men in the park. Sometimes it's difficult to find 32 of them though...


                                                  

Yesterday, I was on the packed Virgin Pendolino train from Euston, when an absolutely gorgeous young lady gave me a massive smile. It made me feel really young again! A few seconds later, she stood up and offered me her seat. Made me feel really old again...



A couple from a travelling circus go to an adoption agency, but social workers are doubtful about their accommodation. So they produce photos of their 15 metre long caravan, the back half of which is a beautifully equipped nursery. The social workers then are doubtful about the education that would be provided. "We've employed an Oxford don who'll teach the child all the subjects along with Mandarin and ICT skills". There are then doubts expressed about the child’s healthy upbringing. "Our full time nanny is an expert in paediatric welfare and diet”, they reply. So the social workers are finally satisfied, and ask what age of child they were looking for. "We don't give a damn", they say, "as long as it fits in the cannon".

                                        


The odd-job man I hired yesterday was a total waste of time. I gave him a list of 8 jobs to do and when I got back, he'd only done 1,3, 5 and 7.



Thought for Thursday: 3D TV is brilliant! I've just watched the BBC weather forecast and I'm saturated!


                                              

The phone rings in the church vestry and the priest answers. The voice asks: 'Hello, is this Father O'Connor?' He replies: 'It is!' 'This is the Inland Revenue. Can you help us?' 'I most certainly can!' 'Do you know a Tommy Scroggins?' 'I do!' 'Is he a member of your congregation?' 'He is!' 'Did he donate £20,000 to the church?' 'He will!.'



I've been teaching my little dog Alfie to beg. Last Tuesday, he came back home with £11.98.



Are all the other folks in your dormitory just plain jealous because the mysterious voices only talk to you? Is the hamster dead, but the wheel is still going round? Well, now you can go see for yourself with my amazing new Jokey-Bloggington at www.ComedianUK.com. It’s comedianuk@sky.com if you fancy sending me an email. Now, get back to work!

                                            


Sunday, 9 September 2018

The Rant & Rave!

                                   

When I was a kid, adults used to bore me to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were, when they were growing up.What with walking ten miles to school every morning. Uphill and barefoot... BOTH ways. Yawn! How could it be uphill both ways?

And I remember promising myself that when I grew up, there was no way in hell I was going to lay a bunch of crap like that on my kids about how hard I had it and how easy they've got it!

But now that I'm over the ripe old age of 50, I can't help but look around and notice the youth of today.

You've got it so easy! I mean, compared to my childhood, you live in a land of milk and honey! And I hate to say it, but you young 'uns today, you don't know how good you've got it!

I mean, when I was a kid we didn't have the interweb. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the bleedin' local library and look it up ourselves, in the index card box!

There was no email!! We had to actually write somebody a letter - with a pen!
Then you had to walk all the way across the street and put it in the post box and it would take, like, a week to get there! Stamps were 5 pence apeice!

Social Services didn't give a rats hoo-haa if our parents gave us an 'ear warmer'. As a matter of fact, the parents of all my friends also had permission to kick the shit out of us! Nowhere was safe!

There were none of them there iPods, iPhones, iTunes gubbins If you wanted to steal music, you had to schlep down to the record shop and shoplift it yourself!
Or you had to wait around all day to tape it off the radio and that Tony Blackburn would usually talk over the beginning and ruin it with one of his bobbins jokes! There were no CD players or iPods! We had tape decks in our car. We'd play our favorite tape and "eject" it when finished and the tape would unravel. Because - that's how we rolled. Geddit?

We didn't have fancy technology like call waiting! If you were on the phone and somebody else called they got an engaged tone and that was that!

And we didn't have the luxury of Caller ID either! When the phone rang, you had no idea who it was! It could be your school, your mum, your boss, your bookie, your drug dealer, a bailiff, you just didn't know!!! You had to pick it up and take your chances, dude! That's if you had a phone! WE had to use semaphore!

We didn't have any state-of-the-art Sony Playstation or X-Box 360 video games with high-resolution 3-D graphics! We had the Atari 2600! With games like 'Space Invaders' and 'Asteroids'. Your guy was a little square! You actually had to use your imagination!! And there were no multiple levels or screens, it was just one screen... forever! And you could never win. The game just kept getting harder and harder and faster and faster until you died! Just like LIFE!

You had to use a little magazine called a TV Times to find out what was on! You were screwed when it came to channel surfing! What with TWO flamin' channels! You had to get off your arse and walk over to the TV to change the channel! It was BBC or ITV. AND NO REMOTE CONTROL!!

There was no Cartoon Network either! You could only get cartoons on Saturday Morning. Do you hear what I'm saying!?! We had to wait ALL WEEK for cartoons, you SPOILT LITTLE RAT BASTARDS!!

And we didn't have microwaves, if we wanted to heat summat up we had to use the stove! Imagine that! NO DINGBOX!

That's exactly what I'm talking about! You kids today have got it too easy. You're spoiled. You little arseholes wouldn't have lasted five minutes back in 1970 or before!

End of rant!


                                       

Sunday, 26 August 2018

The Back Legs...


am not feeling myself. My back legs have gorn, having contracted the most appalling malady. I have given it the moniker of A.A.A.A.A Syndrome – Age Activated Attention Arrears Ataxia. This is how it manifests itself: I decide to mow the lawn. As I lurch towards the front door, I notice that there are letters that have been just delivered by the postie. I go through the mail before I start to cut the grass. The lawnmower is in the garage. I lay the garage keys down on the hall table, put the junk mail in the waste bin under the table, and notice it is full. So, I decide to put the letters back on the table and take out the rubbish first.


However, then I think, since I’m going to be near the garage when I take out the waste, I may as well get the lawnmower out of the garage in readiness. I take the garage keys off the table, and notice that they are actually my car keys. Seeing the car keys reminds me that it needs taxing. Moreover, the garage key is on a hook in the utility room, so I go upstairs to my study and on my desk, I find an unopened bottle of beer that I was going to drink last night. I’m going to look for my cheque book, because I need to tax my car. But first I need to push the beer bottle aside so that I don’t accidentally knock it over. I see that the beer is warm, and I decide I should put it in the refrigerator to maintain the temperature of the beer, because warm beer is horrible.

As I head toward the kitchen with the beer, a wilting potted plant on the dining room table attracts my attention – it needs to be watered. I plonk the beer down on the kitchen worktop, and I discover my reading glasses that I’ve been searching for all morning. I reckon that I’d better put them back on my desk, but first I’m going to water the arid aspidistra. I set the spectacles back down on the worktop and endevour to fill a jug with water, when I spot the TV remote control nestling by the bread crock.

My daughter Nellie must have left it in the kitchen. I realise that later on, when we go to watch the telly, we will be looking for the remote, but nobody will even consider that it’s in the kitchen, so I decide to put it back in the living room where it belongs, but first I’ll water the plant. I splash some water on the aspidistra, but most of it spills on the mahogany table. So, I set the TV remote back down on the worktop, get some paper towel and wipe up the spill. Then I head off down the front path, trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day: the car isn’t taxed, the lawn un-mowed, there is a warm bottle of lager sitting on the dining room table, the Aspidistra’s well dead, I can’t find the TV remote, my reading specs are on the missing list. I cannot recollect what the foxtrot-uniform-charlie-kilo I've done with the car keys. I try to figure out why bugger all has got done today, I’m really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, and I’m really knackered. I realise this is a serious problem, but I must remember to put the wheelie bin out tonight, because it’s Wednesday… or is it Thursday today?



Only the really good jokes are the ones I can take credit for. But you can always visit my website. Just click on www.ComedianUK.com or better still email me: comedianuk@sky.com

                   

Thursday, 23 August 2018

Confessions of a Chauvinist....

           

Hey men! Listen up! It is most imperative for all us lads to take into account, that as our wives get older, it will be inevitable that she will become unable to maintain the same level of housekeeping as when
she was a young filly. When you notice this, do your utmost not to bellow at her. Many
females are oversensitive and there’s nothing more infuriating than an oversensitive woman. Let me relate how I handled the situation with the missus, (I call her ‘Narnia’, because she has hair like a lion, looks like a witch and is the size of a wardrobe). When I took 'early retirement' last year, it became necessary for Narnia to get a full-time job, primarily for beer tokens.

Within just a year from commencing full time employment, I noticed she was beginning to age rapidly. I usually get home from the golf course about the same time she arrives back from work. Although she is aware of how famished I am, she usually says that she must recuperate for half an hour or so, prior to starting cooking. I will never harangue her. Instead, I tell her to take her time and just wake me up when she finally gets dinner on the table.

I generally have lunch in the restaurant at the club, so eating out is not an option. I’m ready for some home- cooked nosh when I get home. In days of yore, she would stack the dishwasher as soon as we finished eating. But now, it’s not unusual for copious items of crockery and cutlery to sit festering on the kitchenette worktop for several hours after dinner. I do what I can by diplomatically reminding her several times each evening that they won’t clean themselves. I know she appreciates this, as it does seem to motivate her to get them done before she retires to bed. She starts work early (she is a Gritter over the Snake Pass). I really think my experience as an entertainer helps a lot. I consider telling people what they ought to do, in a jocular fashion; it’s one of my main talents. Now that she is akin to a trainee corpse, (she has a face like a pirate’s flag) she does seem to get knackered so much faster than she used to do, back in the day. However, I have begun to accept this.

Our washer and dryer are in the garage. Sometimes she curtly informs me that she is utterly exhausted and is physically unable to undertake yet another foray down those stone flags. I don’t blow the matter out of proportion and exacerbate this unfortunate scenario; as long as she finishes all the laundry the next evening, I’m willing to overlook it. Not only that, but unless I need something ironed to wear to the Monday Masonic Lodge meeting, Wednesday’s or Saturday’s lap-dancing club, or to Tuesday’s bowling, or Thursday's billiard match or summat similar, I will tell her to wait until the next evening to do the ironing. This gives her a little more time to perform a veritable smorgasbord of domestic tasks, that she may have inadvertently neglected, such as 'bottoming' the skirting boards, delousing the dog, getting down on her hands and knees to vigorously scrub the scullery floor tiles, or steam cleaning the oven. (thereby removing built-up grease and other disgusting charred detritus). It’s all a matter of getting her fundamental chores into better perspective.

Another symptom of ageing is perpetual whinging. For example, she will say that it is difficult for her to find time to clean and gut the fish that I caught, while I was out with the boys at the cabin over the weekend. But hey lads! We take them for better or worse, so I just smile and offer encouragement. I tell her to stretch it out over two or even three hours. That way, she won’t have to rush about too much. When she’s taking out the rubbish bins, she remonstrates they are very heavy, so I advise her to make two or three trips. I also remind her that missing lunch completely now and then wouldn’t affect her at all (if you get my drift). I genuinely like to think that tact and diplomacy is one of my stronger points.

                                     

 

           

BEER! Resistance is futile!

                        

I never drink beer on a Monday,

Cos Monday's the day fer mi health

An' the wife's got me countin' them units,

I've just got to take care o' miself

So I merely have wine wi' mi supper,

An' just the one litre OK?

Then a rather large rum in mi coffee

An' I calls that mi sensible day



I never drink wine on a Tuesday,

Cos Tuesday's mi weightwatchin' club

It's the day when I eat nowt but cabbage,

The day I don't go much fer grub

Now a diet demands plenty fluid,

Summat light an' completely fat-free

So I've chosen that strong German lager

An' I just have five pints wi' mi tea



I never drink lager on Wednesday,

Cos Wednesday's the day fer mi jog

It's tracksuit an' trainers at mid-day

Then I'm off up the road wi' the dog

First stop's at the Globe fer some Guinness,

Three swift ones'll get me to grips

Then I carry on round to The Shepherds

Fer three more an' a burger an' chips

I make sure that I'm suitably rested,

Then I sprint back to our garden wall

In a time of under twelve minutes,

An' it's four 'undred metres an' all



I never drink Guinness on Thursday,

Cos Thursday's mi day to relax

I likes to sit out in t' back garden

In mi brown zip-up cardie an slacks

After lunch I might stroll by the river,

Breeze in at the Fisherman's Drop

Where I lounge on the terrace all lordly,

Sippin' shandy, but beawt any pop

Then cos I've been good through the day like,

She'll allow me to waver a smidge

So mi evenin's spent watchin' the footy

Wi' a few packs o' Boddies from t' fridge



I never drink Boddies on Friday,

Cos Friday's mi night on the razz

An' we meet in The Firkin at seven,

Owd Nodger an' me an' Fat Baz

Oh The Firkin's a beer-drinker's heaven,

Wi' fifteen real ales from the jug

An' we start wi' the ones in the tap-room

An' we works our way round to the snug

By midnight we're all talkin' gubbins

An' we're off fer a curry up town

But there's summat not reyt about curry

Cos I never seem t' keep the stuff down

We 'ave a good laugh wi' the waiters,

An' Baz moons his bum fer a joke

Then I'm home fer a nightful o' passion,

Cos I'm known as a passionate bloke



I never do much on a Sat'day,

Cos Sat'day's mi time fer a think

Cos me an' the wife are not speakin' today,

I'm a drunken, fat pig an' I stink

So I sit near the lavvie pretendin'

That really I'm feelin' just great

But I'm goin' right off that Indian food

If it leaves me in this bloody state

It's later I make the decision,

On my forty-third trip to the bog

There's only one thing cures an upset like this

An' they call it the 'air o' the dog

I ring Nodge an' Baz on mi mobile

An' both of 'ems likewise in pain

So we're back in The Firkin at quarter-past-six

An' we do it all over again



I never say Firkin on Sunday,

Cos Sunday's mi day to repent

I'm ashamed of all o' that boozin' I've done

An' all o that money I've spent

I begs the wife fer forgiveness

An' I promise I'll alter mi ways

An' she gives me a kiss an' a cuddle,

Like she did in our newly-wed days

We watch Songs of Praise on the telly,

Then a nice pot o' tea an' some cakes

An' I swear now I've climbed up the ladders,

I'll never slide down any snakes

But it's borin' on telly on Sunday,

An' I can't say I'm ever impressed

So I 'ave a walk out round the village

An' stop off at the Collier's Rest

Now the beer's a bit crap in The Collier's

So I leave an' pop round to The Swan

Where I flatten a shed-load o' Tetley's

An' I'm bloody well back to square one!






Monday, 20 August 2018

Best Joke on Edinburgh Fringe 2018! REALLY!!

Adam Rowe's jobcentre joke crowned funniest of Edinburgh fringe

Comedians often strive to find laughter through the tears, and the winner of this year’s funniest joke of the Edinburgh fringe is no exceptionAdam Rowe has taken home the accolade after riffing on the challenges of being sacked. “Working at the jobcentre has to be a tense job,” he pointed out to his audience. “Knowing that if you get fired


From my syndicated column in January 2014!



                            From This Blog in August 2013!



Well, I never!




Monday, 30 July 2018

Thr Great Escape....

The Great Escape Untouched for almost seven decades, the tunnel used in the Great Escape has finally been unearthed.    The 111-yard passage nicknamed 'Harry' by Allied prisoners was sealed by the Germans after the audacious break-out from the POW camp Stalag Luft III in western Poland.
Despite huge interest in the subject, encouraged by the film starring Steve McQueen, the tunnel remained undisturbed over the decades because it was behind the Iron Curtain and the Soviet authorities had no interest in its significance.

                                    
      


But at last British archaeologists have excavated it, and discovered its remarkable secrets.

Many of the bed boards which had been joined together to stop it collapsing were still in position.
And the ventilation shaft, ingeniously crafted from used powdered milk containers known as Klim Tins, remained in working order.
Scattered throughout the tunnel, which is 30ft below ground, were bits of old metal buckets, hammers and crowbars which were used to hollow out the route.
A total of 600 prisoners worked on three tunnels at the same time. They were nicknamed Tom, Dick and Harry and were just 2 ft square for most of their length.
It was on the night of March 24 and 25, 1944, that 76 Allied airmen escaped through Harry.
Barely a third of the 200 prisoners - many in fake German uniforms and civilian outfits and carrying false identity papers - who were meant to slip away managed to leave before the alarm was raised when escapee number 77 was spotted.

Tunnel vision: A tunnel reconstruction showing the trolley system.








                                 




Only three made it back to Britain. Another 50 were executed by firing squad on the orders of Adolf Hitler, who was furious after learning of the breach of security.
In all, 90 boards from bunk beds, 62 tables, 34 chairs and 76 benches, as well as thousands of items including knives, spoons, forks, towels and blankets, were squirrelled away by the Allied prisoners to aid the escape plan under the noses of their captors.
Although the Hollywood movie suggested otherwise, NO Americans were involved in the operation.


Most were British, and the others were from Canada , (all the tunnellers were Canadian personnel with backgrounds in mining) Poland, New Zealand, Australia and South Africa.


The site of the tunnel, recently excavated by British archaeologists
The latest dig, over three weeks in August, located the entrance to Harry, which was originally concealed under a stove in Hut 104.
The team also found another tunnel, called George, whose exact position had not been charted. It was never used as the 2,000 prisoners were forced to march to other camps as the Red Army approached in January 1945.


Watching the excavation was Gordie King, 91, an RAF radio operator, who was 140th in line to use Harry and therefore missed out.


'This brings back such bitter-sweet memories,' he said as he wiped away tears. 'I'm amazed by what they've found.'




                    

Bitter-sweet memories: Gordie King, 91, made an emotional return to Stalag Luft III.





Thank a teacher if you are reading this.   Thank a veteran if you are reading it in English.