The Feministic Picnickerty Farrago...

                                            

Jeff Bezos told wedding guests not to bring a gift, with people asking, “What do you give the man who has everything?” A tax bill would be a good start. He left his first wife. Presumably, with a neighbour. Or did he put her in the brown bin?



I’ve decided to pack everything in and travel the world until I run out of money. After a rough calculation, I’ll be back home at around 7 pm tonight.



Rod Stewart has complained that he’s got the Glastonbury ‘tea time slot’, mainly because it interferes with his afternoon nap.



What with all the frowning upon using fossil fuels that could potentially harm the environment, I’ve just heard that a major oil conglomerate is going to start producing fuel manufactured from insect urine. I’m not absolutely certain which company, but I reckon it’s BP.



TOP TIP: Spice up your panic attacks with a harmonica.



After yet another embarrassing U-Turn, Keir Starmer is working tirelessly to find another benefits policy that the House of Commons can all hate.



How to ascertain the gender of an ant. Drop the ant in water. If it sinks: Girl ant. If it floats…..

                                     

The local vicar of Scropton Street Evangelical Church attended the dentist for a set of new gnashers. On the first Sunday after receiving his new Hampsteads, his gums hurt so bad that he gave a sermon lasting only four minutes. On the second Sunday, there was little improvement with the pain, so his sermon lasted a mere nine minutes. However, on the third Sunday, his sermon went on for a staggering two and a half hours and he had to be helped out of the pulpit by the parishioners, because he was thoroughly exhausted! Apparently, he got up late and was rushing around so much that he accidentally put his wife’s teeth in by mistake, and he couldn’t stop talking!



I was sitting on the 237 bus, and a mother and her young son were in the seat in front of me. The boy was quite annoying and kept looking around and pulling funny faces at me. After a few minutes, I was tired of his antics and told him: “ When I was your age, my mum told me that if I made an ugly face and the wind changed, then I would stay that way!” The little tyke replied: “Well, you can’t say that you weren’t warned!” Then the boy's mother chipped in and asked the child: “Peter, am I a bad mother?” The son looked at her and sez: “My name is Paul!”



Non-Stick Nora was at Weight Watchers, lamenting the fact that she’d put on yet another stone. She told the group: “I made Barmy Albert’s favourite apple and almond cake over the weekend and we scoffed half of it after dinner. The next day, I was transfixed by the other half, until I finally gave in and cut myself a mere thin slice, then I got the taste and polished off the rest of it until it was all gone! I was dismayed at my behaviour, I possess the breaking strain of a Kit-Kat and I knew that Albert would be bitterly disappointed in me.” The group leader asked gently: “What did Albert say when he found out?” With all the dignity that she could muster, Nora replied: “Oh, he never found out because I made another cake and ate half of that before he got home from work!”



Fifty-two-year-old Chester Draws was so paranoid about his missus having an affair that he relocated to a new town over 300 miles away. He couldn’t believe his good fortune when he discovered that they’d managed to keep the same gardener! 

Some things are better left unsaid. Unfortunately, I don’t realise this until after I’ve actually said them. I’ve always appreciated the offbeat characters, the lollygaggers, the odd-balls, the skewiff entities, the wallflower folk, the bizarre rejects, the middle-of-centre activists, the crestfallen, the ne’er-do-wells, the knaves and rapscallions. The snowflake tribes are the bane of society and will be responsible for our eventual undoing. If you concur, then visit my website: http://www.ComedianUK.com and you can also email me: comedianuk@sky.com. Now, get back to work!

Non-Stick Nora discovers spiritual awareness....

                                                           

         

An electrician comes home at 2 am, his wife asks him: "wire you insulate?" He sez: "Watts it to you? I'm ohm, aren't I?"

I got home last night and the missus was standing there waiting for me in her new slinky outfit. She looked great coming down the stairs! She then informed that she was going back upstairs to put on a little black lace number. I followed her up, and she was playing "Agadoo" on her iPod.



There's a nudist convention on in Stalybridge tomorrow. I might go if I've got nothing on...

Barmy Albert applies for a cleaning position at a local IT company. He goes through the interviews, passes the basic screening, and finally HR tells him: “Congratulations, you’re hired. Just drop us your email, and we’ll send over your work schedule.” Albert hesitates: “Well… I actually don’t have a computer. And no email, either.” The Personnel Clerk pauses and replies: “I’m sorry, but we can’t bring you on board. If you don’t have an email, you basically don’t exist in our system. All employee communication is digital—email is essential for team coordination and updates.” With no other option, Barmy Albert leaves. Walking down the street, he starts thinking about how to make enough money to buy a computer. He’s got eight quid in his pocket. He uses it to buy ten pounds of apples from a farmer, then heads to a busy street corner to sell them as “fresh organic snacks.” Within a few hours, he doubles his money. By the end of the day, he’s turned that £8 into £100!  Albert keeps at it. Days turn into weeks, and before long, he buys a used van. Then, a small fruit stall on Scropton Street Market. After that, a High street shop. Five months later, he owns a chain of market stalls and greengrocers' outlets across the city. One day, he visits an insurance company to protect his growing business. The agent wraps up the paperwork and says, “Great! Just give me your email so we can send you special offers and updates.” Albert chuckles, “I still don’t have one.” The clerk looks shocked. “You’re telling me you built this entire business empire with no email or computer?! Just imagine where you’d be if you had one!” Albert smiles and says, “I’d probably be mopping your office floors!” Moral of the story? It’s not the tools that define your success. It’s what you do with what you have.
                                                          

Q: How do you think the unthinkable? A: With an itheberg.



Yesterday, one of my good friends told me I often make people uncomfortable by violating their personal space. It was a really hurtful thing to say and completely ruined our bath....



Non-Stick Nora decides to take her grandson to the beach. The child’s mother is worried that Nora will not be attentive to the child…” Please,” Nora begs, “I’ve even bought him a sailor suit with a little hat!” Finally, the mother relents. At the beach, a huge wave rolls in from the horizon, crashes onto the beach, and pulls the small boy out to sea without a trace. Nora is in shock. She falls to her knees, looking to the sky. She begs, “God, please return my grandson. I’ll never ask for anything ever again!” On the horizon, a second huge wave rolls towards the beach, crashes at Nora’s feet, and deposits the child soaking wet but unharmed. Again, looking to the sky, Nora shouts: “He had a hat!”



Just a little heads up for you all. If perchance, you are in a Tesco supermarket, and you mistakenly ask a member of the public: “Where do you keep your orange cordial?” When they curtly inform you, “Actually, I don’t work here.” Do not try to cover for yourself by saying: “ I know that, I meant you personally at home, do you keep it in a cupboard or the fridge?” It just makes you look like an oddball.



Q: Why do Swedish warships have barcodes? A: So they can Scandinavian.



Octogenarian Elsie Grabknuckle was bell-ringing in the local church, and Sid Slopbouquet told her that he was refusing to touch his rope unless it was soaked in whisky. Elsie told him: “Pull the other one, it’s got Bells on it!”

                                            

The Deceased Aspidistra....

                                     

My back legs have gone! I have contracted the most appalling malady. I give it the moniker of A-A-A-A-A Syndrome. It stands for Age Animated Attention Arrears Ataxia.



It manifests itself thus: The missus instructs me to paint the kitchenette walls. As I lurch towards the front porch, I notice that there is a brown envelope from DVLA just delivered by the Royal Mail. I open the envelope and go through the other mail before I start painting. The ladders are in the shed. I lay the shed keys down on the hall table, put the junk mail in the waste bin underneath and notice it is overflowing. So, I decide to take out the rubbish first, but the WiFi is down, so I need to sort that out too.



I phoned BT Outreach Technical Services and told them there’s no WiFi and I was having difficulties with my computer. The techno dude sez: “Right click, go to tools-internet options- accounts, then properties”. I replied: “Hang on, slow down, I can't keep up with all that!” He asked: “What have you done up to now?” I replied, “I've written click...”



However, I think, since I’m going to be near the shed when I take out the waste, I may as well get the ladders out, in readiness. I snaffle the shed keys off the table and notice that they are actually my car keys. The notice from the DVLA reminds me that it needs taxing. Moreover, the shed 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 ale that I was going to drink last night. I’m logging on to the DVLA website to tax the 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, because warm lager is undrinkable.


                 


                           

As I totter towards the scullery with the Carlsberg, a wilting potted plant on the dining room table attracts my attention – it needs to be watered. I plonk the bottle down on the kitchenette worktop and 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 endeavour to fill a jug with water, when I spot the TV remote control nestling by the bread crock.





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 put the TV remote back down, got some paper towels, and wiped up the spillage. Then I head off down the front path, trying to remember exactly what I was planning to do.



                                    

At the end of the day, the car isn’t taxed, there’s still no WiFi, the kitchen remains undecorated, there is a warm bottle of pilsner languishing on the dining table, the aspidistra is well deceased, I can’t find the TV remote, my reading specs are on the missing list. I cannot recollect what I've done with the car keys. I try to figure out why nothing has been done today. It’s been hectic 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?



Some things are better left unsaid. Unfortunately, I don't realise this until after I've actually said them. I’ve always appreciated the offbeat characters, the lollygaggers, the odd-balls, the skewiff entities, the wallflower folk, the bizarre rejects, the middle-of-centre activists, the crestfallen, the ne’er-do-wells, the knaves and rapscallions. The snowflake tribes are the bane of society and will be responsible for our eventual undoing. If you concur, then visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com

and you can also email me: comedianuk@sky.com. Now, get back to work!

Pretend it's 1973....

                                               

Non-Stick Nora sez to Barmy Albert: “That pub over the road has a sign up saying: ‘No mobile phones. Pretend it’s 1973’. Albert replied: “Well, you’ll never guess what I did.” Nora asked him: What did you do then?” Albert sez: “I walked up to the bar and gave him 17p for a pint and lit a cigarette.”

In days of yore, soldiers used a wooden horse to infiltrate their enemy's territory. However, in modern times, it's been simplified to an inflatable dinghy and good weather!

The instructor said, "Ladies, remember that exercise is good for you. Walking is especially beneficial. It strengthens the pelvic muscles and will make delivery that much easier. Just pace yourself, make plenty of stops and try to stay on a soft surface like grass or a path." The room was full of pregnant women with their husbands. "Gentlemen, remember -- you're in this together. It wouldn't hurt you to go walking with her. In fact, that shared experience would be good for you both." The meeting suddenly became very quiet as the men absorbed this information. After a few moments a bloke at the back of the room, slowly raised his hand. "Yes?" said the Instructor. "I was just wondering if it would be all right if she carries a golf bag while we walk?" Brings a tear to your eye, doesn't it? This kind of sensitivity just can't be taught.

To the scurrilous individual who dumped a mattress in my front garden yesterday, I don't know how you sleep at night.

                                                                     

 

Non-Stick Nora and Barmy Albert were shopping in Tesco. Albert picks up a case of Stella Artois and puts it in their shopping trolley. "What do you think you're doing? " asks Nora. "They're on sale, only £15 for 24 cans," he replies. "Put them back, we can't afford them." Demands Nora, and so they carry on shopping. A few aisles further on, Nora picks up a £30 jar of anti-wrinkle face cream and puts it in the basket. "What do you think you're doing?" asks Albert. "It's my face cream. It makes me look beautiful," replies Nora. Barmy Albert retorts: "So does 24 cans of Stella and it's half the price." On the PA system: 'Clean-up on aisle 25 please, we have a husband down.'

Thursday Thought: You can train a cat to do anything it wants to do. Don’t ask meow!

I got a loaf and some milk from Aldi. They were an impulse buy because I only went in for an angle grinder and a two-man tent.

This bloke walks up Scropton Streett and flags down a passing taxi. "Perfect timing," he tells the driver. "You're just like Tommy," "Who?" asks the cabbie. "Tommy Grabknuckle. He's a man who did everything right, all the time. He could have won the Grand Slam at tennis and played golf with Tiger Woods. He sang like an opera tenor, and you should have seen him dance." "Sounds like quite a guy," says the driver. "That's not the half of it. He had a memory like a computer. He could remember everybody's birthday. He was a connoisseur of wine and a gourmet cook. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse and the whole street is blacked out" "Wow, what a guy!" “He knew how to treat a woman. His clothing was always immaculate, his shoes polished. He was the perfect man. Nobody could ever measure up to him" "Amazing. How did you meet him?" "Oh, I never met Tommy. I just married his widow."

My Sat-Nav has stopped speaking to me. It’s sent me to Coventry. They’ve brought a new Sat-Nav out now for octogenarians. When you get to where you’re going, it tells you what you went for! You can download different voices, too. I downloaded Bonny Tyler. Now it keeps telling me to turn around and every now and then, it falls apart.

Don't let stress kill you off! Why not let me help? By reading this column regularly, you will exercise your guffaw glands and laugh at all the fine jokes, superb entertainment, and gracious hostility. Why not visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com or better still, gizzus a tweet on twitter.com/comedianuk You can email me too! comedianuk@sky.com. Now, get back to work!

                                           

RIP Johnnie Finn.

 

We both went to school together and attended Nicholls Ardwick High School. I was in the first year, whereas John was in his final year.

                                           

Back in June 1973, I did my first ever gig at the Locomotive Pub in Ardwick.  John wrote all my material. I did impressions then.  We went on to do Sunday lunchtime Concert Secretaries auditions and began getting quite a bit of work in.  Later on we managed to get in to see Tommy Cooper and Les Dawson and wrote a few scripts for them as well. John also penned The Lord's Prayer for Maxton G Beesley's Harold Wilson impersonation (The PM at the time) who had just won Opportunity Knocks and was about to appear on the London Palladium with our material.

                               

He was quite a character, and we travelled all over the UK together, doing gigs in working men's clubs and other assorted venues.  They were plentiful at this time and Manchester had literally dozens of cabaret clubs and pubs that hosted a full week's entertainment.  This featured a headline top-of-the bill and a couple of supporting acts, plus a full orchestra! They were indeed halycon days. 

                                       

Farewell Johnnie, life will be infinitely poorer for your passing. It was an honour and a privilege to know you. There'll never be another.  Until we meet again, dear friend. Rest in Peace.

                                  

Cynthia Slopbouquet & The Prada Futshooz...

                             

Cynthia Slopbouquet was at The Trafford Centre on a shopping trip. She began her day finding the most perfect Prada shoes in the first shop and a beautiful Yves Saint Laurent dress on sale in the second. In the third, everything she spotted was reduced by fifty percent. Then her iPhone rang. It was a female doctor notifying her that her husband had just been in a terrible car accident and was in critical condition and in the ICU. Cynthia asked the doctor to inform her husband where she was and that she’d be there as soon as possible. As she hung up, she realised she was leaving what was shaping up to be her best day ever in the designer boutiques. She decided to hit a couple of more fashion emporiums on the way to the hospital. She ended up shopping the rest of the morning, finishing her trip with a cup of frothy latte and a slice of yummy chocolate cake, compliments of the last shop. She was jubilant. Then, she remembered her husband. Feeling guilty, she dashed to the hospital. She saw the doctor in the corridor and asked about her husband’s condition. The lady doctor glared at her and shouted, “You went ahead and finished your shopping trip didn’t you? I hope you’re proud of yourself! While you were out for the past four hours enjoying yourself in town, your husband has been languishing in the Intensive Care Unit! It’s just as well you went ahead and finished, because it will more than likely be the last shopping trip you ever take! For the rest of his life, he will require round-the-clock care. And taking care of him will now be your career!” Cynthia was feeling so overwhelmed with guilt that she broke down and began sobbing. The lady doctor then chuckled and said, “I’m just pulling your leg. He’s dead. Show me what shoes you bought.”Whilst appearing at a local gig recently, a fella came up to me after the show and offered me five thousand quid to speak at a black-tie charity dinner in London for the Brittle Bone Society. Well, I snapped his hand off!

What is it with trainspotters these days? I counted 26 of them this morning. After that, I spotted an albino dalmatian in the park. I thought it was the least I could do! When I got back home, I found out I've failed my online German exam. Sacre bleu!

                                               

 

Behind every husband who thinks he wears the pants. Is a wife who told him which pants to wear. My wife’s intuition is so highly developed that she knows I’m wrong before I’ve even opened my mouth!

Barmy Albert was on holiday with Non-Stick Nora and he sez to her: "I bet you'd like to see where Dick Turpin lived?" Nora replied: "Sure would". Albert sez: "No, that's Robin Hood".

Why do we say: “I slept like a baby.” When babies wake up every two hours crying and wailing, need nappies changing and want feeding. I want to sleep like a cat: fourteen hours, no responsibilities, zero regrets. Don’t ask meow!

I tried out one of those apps that show you what you would look like as an old person. It’s called camera! Doncha just love technology! I asked Alexa to check my bank balance and to advise me which Apple product I could afford. Alexa told me: “Apple juice!”

Fascinating Fact: When Lord Nelson passed away, he was five feet tall. However, his statue in Trafalgar Square in London is fifteen feet tall. That’s Horatio of 3:1

                       

 



If you ever need me then I’m always just four missed calls, five text messages and a couple of Whatsapp away. Furthermore, you can visit my website. Just click on: www.comedianUK.com or email me: comedianuk@sky.com Now, get back to work!

                      
                     

The Starmer & Miliband Plan...

                         

Kier Starmer shouted Ed Milband into his office one day and sez: "Ed, I have a great idea! We are going to go all out to win back Middle England."
"Great idea, Kier. Now how will we go about it?’ asked Miliband
"Well" sez Starmer: "We’ll get ourselves one of those long Barbour coats, some proper wellies, a stick and a flat cap, oh and a Labrador. Then we’ll really look the part. We’ll go to a nice old country pub, in Compton Dundon or another village and we’ll show them we really enjoy the Countryside and everything."
"Right, Oh" replied Miliband. So a few days later, all kitted out and with the requisite Labrador at heel, they set off from London in a westerly direction. Eventually they arrived at just the place they were looking for (Much Piddling-in-the-Brook) and
found a lovely country pub (The Dog & Dildo) and with the dog, went in and sauntered up to the bar. "‘Good evening, Landlord may we have two pints of your best ale, from the
wood?" asked Starmer. "Good evening, Prime Minister’ said the landlord, "Two pints of Farquarharson's Old & Filthy Best British Bitter Beer it is, coming up".
Starmer and Miliband stood leaning on the bar, quaffing their ale and chatting, nodding now and again to those who came into the bar for a drink. The dog lay quietly at their feet.
All of a sudden, the door from the public bar opened and in came a
grizzled old shepherd, complete with crook. He walked up to the Labrador, lifted its tail and looked underneath, shrugged his shoulders, and walked back to the other bar.
A few moments later, in came another old shepherd with his crook. He walked up to the dog, lifted its tail, looked underneath, scratched his head and went back to the other bar.
Over the next half hour, several other locals came in,
lifted the dog’s tail and went away looking perplexed.
Eventually, Starmer and Miliband could stand it no longer and called the landlord over. "Tell me," says Starmer ""Why did all those old shepherds and other punters come in and look under the dog’s tail like that? Is it a local custom?’
"Good Lord No.!"’ answered the barkeep, "It’s just that someone told them that there was a Labrador in this bar with two arseholes."

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