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Monday, 29 March 2010
After last weeks budget, our local burger bar has launched the new Alastair Darling Value Meal. Order anything you like,and the fella behind you has to pay for it!
With the General Election looming up in the not too distant future, at last Gordon Brown decided to throw the towel in and resign. His cabinet colleagues decided it would be a worthy gesture to name a railway locomotive after him.
So Alastair`Darling´ (he of the magnificent eyebrows) went from Whitehall to the National Railway Museum at York, to investigate the possibilities.
"We have a number of locomotives at the NRM without names," a specially sought NRM consultant told the Chancellor. "Mostly freight locomotives though."
"Oh dear, that’s not very fitting for a prime minister," said Alastair, "How about that big green one, over there?" he said, pointing to no. 4472.
"That’s already got a name,” said the consultant. "It’s called `Flying Scotsman´."
"Oh. Couldn’t it not be renamed?" asked Darling. "This is a national museum after all, funded by the taxpayer."
"I suppose it might be considered," said the NRM consultant. "After all the LNER renamed a number of their locomotives after directors of the company, and even renamed one of them The Peter Mandelson Express."
"That’s excellent,” said Alastair Darling, "So that’s settled then. Let’s look at renaming 4472. But how much will it cost? We can’t spend too much, given the expenses scandal!"
Well, said the consultant, "We could always just paint out the `F´"
Jack Sprat was broke and flat, his wife had not a bean,
And so each stood for Parliament, (North) (South) Gretna Green.
Now since they are in Westminster, they now have high pretences,
They were soon shown how to make a load, by fiddling their expenses.
They charged for every platter, all their food and all their drink,
With a "Hazel-Blears-type mortgage, a Jacqui-Smith -sized sink.
They piled the money in their bank, in that they were most zealous,
It would make old Midas's eyebrow raise and Croesus to feel quite jealous.
Their fortunes soared as fees flew in, receipts were wild and weird,
For their Scottish home a second house in Frome,
With both moat and duck pond cleared.
Soon Thomas Legg their cash does beg, but Spratts are sitting pretty,
Its "within the rules" so they've made fools of ' Standards ' House committee.
The PM sighed, Jack and his bride, who once just travelled steerage,
Must elevate, both Sprat and mate, ennobled in the peerage.
And these same, poor Jack and dame, now Lord and Lady we must mention,
Hold status high, and gain thereby,
A large increase in pension.
Let the moral of this story be:
Don't want to be poor? Just become an MP!!
Celibacy can be a choice in life, or a condition imposed by circumstances. While attending a Marriage Guidance Weekend, Barmy Albert and his wife, Non-Stick Nora, listened to the instructor declare, 'It is essential that husbands and wives know the things that are important to each other.' He then addressed the men, ’Can you name and describe your wife's favourite flower?' Albert leaned over, touched Nora’s arm gently, and whispered, "Homepride, isn't it?" And thus began Barmy Albert’s life of celibacy.
This weekly humour column may exacerbate chronic halitosis, mental aberration, repetitive spasmodic squinting! For further jocular clarification, why not visit my Jokey-Blog! Just clickety-click on www.ComedianUK.com
Email me at: email@example.com. It’s warming up quite nicely innit!
Monday, 15 March 2010
My mole at Eastlands informs me that Man City manager Roberto Mancini managed to raise a smile when he explained how he was going to improve his already half-decent English. "I apologise for my English," he said. "It is not perfect but I intend to improve it by watching Coronation Street" It's working. He's already started saying, "Flamin' Nora, our Viera."
On the same subject, a Man City supporter waxes lyrical:
There was a girl from Stockport,
Her name was Hazel Grove,
She started supporting City,
When she was eight years old,
She’s been to nearly every match,
She’s only missed a few,
She’s never seen them win a cup,
And now she’s forty-two!
Our local Household Waste Disposal and Civic Amenity Site, (why don't they just say ‘tip’) has closed recently and we must now make a 35 mile round trip to the next nearest one. Last week, I bought a new fridge and to get rid of the old fridge, I put it in the front garden and hung a sign on it saying: 'Working Fridge - Free to good home. You want it, you take it.' For two days the fridge sat there without anyone looking twice. I eventually decided that people were too distrustful of this scenario. So I changed the sign to read: 'Fridge for sale £20.' The next day someone nicked it!
My 12-year-old daughter Susannah asked me, “What was your favourite 'fast food' when you were growing up?” “We didn't have fast food when I was growing up,” I informed her. “All the food was slow.” “C'mon, seriously. Where did you eat?”
”It was at a place called home,”' I explained. “Mum cooked every day and when Dad got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table, and if I didn't like what she put on my plate, I was allowed to sit there until I did like it.”
By this time, the lass was laughing so hard I was afraid she was going to suffer serious internal damage, so I didn't tell her the part about how I had to have permission to leave the table.
Many people cannot comprehend why UK oil reserves are rapidly diminishing and we have very little oil left. Let me explain. Our oil reserves are situated in the North Sea, whereas our dipsticks are in Westminster. Now do you understand?
Got a text from Barmy Albert yesterday. It read: Just driving my new Toyota Prius. Chat later. Can’t stop. Well at least he’ll find out if the airbag works!
Tried to do a bit of that ‘Cage Fighting’ last week. Anyone know where I can buy a replacement budgerigar?
This week: I've got a new plasma TV. Its ADD-HD. I can't watch it for very long. Last week: I went to a funeral and caught the wreath! Want more hilarious diatribes? Then visit my Jokey-Blog via www.ComedianUK.com or better still, gizza tweet on Twitter! www.twitter.com/comedianuk. Be happy and cheer up coz the bleak midwinter is gone and spring is a-comin.’
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
I got the test results back from the hospital yesterday. The consultant reckons that I have summat very, very rare. I asked him what it was and he said “A bed”.
No, seriously folks! He thinks I might have contracted Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, but its hard to say at the moment.
My next-door neighbour, Barmy Albert is most upset. He has lost his dog and is inconsolable. The canine in question has been on the missing list for well over a week. I strongly advised Albert to put an ad in the paper, in an effort to ascertain the errant woofers whereabouts. When I went round to see him yesterday, Barmy Albert informed me that there had been no response whatsover. I asked him exactly what wording he used in the advertisement and he replied “Come here boy!”
He was most attached to his dog though. It was one of those Jack Russell types and was always jumping up at you when you visited. I went round to see Albert a couple of weeks ago and he offered me a dish of his home made vegetable soup. The dog was going mental and doing virtual somersaults, cartwheels and back-flips during my brief visit. I asked Albert why the animal was so highly-strung and Albert laconically replied “You’ve got his bowl.”
Dog Joke Of The Week: This guy sees a sign in front of a house "Talking Dog for Sale." He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the back yard. The guy goes into the back yard and sees a mutt sitting there.” You talk?" he asks."Yep," the mutt replies.” So, what's your story? "The mutt looks up and says "Well, I discovered this gift pretty young and I wanted to help the government, so I told MI5, and in no time they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies, cause no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies eight years running. The jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger and I wanted to settle down. So I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security work, mostly wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible dealings there and was awarded a batch of medals. Had a wife, a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired." The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog. The owner says "Eight quid." The fella says he'll buy him, but asks the owner, "This dog is amazing. Why on earth are you selling him?" The owner replies, "He's such a f@*%ing liar."
If I could offer you some advice for the future: Dance like you are mortally wounded. Love like you need the money. Work when people are watching. Dress up in Lycra. Always leave a false name. Be legendary. Believe in Karma.If at first you don’t succeed, then redefine success. Need more info? Then click on www.ComedianUK.com or gizza tweet on twitter.com/comedianuk. Now, get back to work, strike the pose and assume a comical position.
Many moons ago, I fell madly in love with a girl in a petrol station. We got engaged, however, after a couple of months, we had a massive argument and she broke off the engagement and terminated the relationship. I was totally devastated. It was a classic case of unrequited love. Even to this day, I am unable to drive past that petrol station, without filling up.
Whilst on the subject of unrequited love, here is an interesting story: The wife came home early and found her husband in their bedroom passionately making lurve with a very attractive young woman, who had knockers like window cleaners pockets. Wifey was somewhat upset. 'You are a disrespectful futhamucker!' she sez. 'How dare you do this to me -- a faithful wife, the mother of your children! I'm leaving you. I want a divorce right away!' The husband replied, 'Hang on just a minute love so at least I can tell you what happened.' 'Fine, go ahead,' she sobbed,' but they'll be the last words you'll ever say to me!'
Then the husband began -- 'Well, I was getting into the car to drive home, and this young lady here asked me for a lift. She looked so down and out and defenceless that I took pity on her and let her into the car.
I noticed that she was very thin, not well dressed and very dirty. She told me that she hadn't eaten for three days.
So, in my compassion, I brought her home and warmed up the steak and kidney pudding that I made for you last night, the one you wouldn't eat because you're afraid you'll put on weight. The poor thing devoured it all in moments.
Since she needed a good clean up, I suggested a shower, and while she was doing that, I noticed her clothes were dirty and full of holes, so I threw them away.
Then, as she needed clothes, I gave her those designer jeans that you have had for a few years, but don't wear because you say they are too tight. I also gave her the underwear that was your anniversary present, which you don't wear because I don't have good taste. Then I found the blouse my sister gave you for Christmas that you don't wear just to annoy her, and I also donated those boots you bought at the expensive boutique in Manchester and don't wear because someone at work has a pair just the same.' The husband took a quick breath and continued - 'She was so grateful for my understanding and help that as I walked her to the door, she turned to me with tears in her eyes and said, “Please.... Do you have anything else that your wife doesn't want?”
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 three-dimensional human existences. Visit my website www.ComedianUK.com and continue the quest! You can email me on firstname.lastname@example.org now, assume a comical position and strike the pose. Oh, and get back to work!