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Wednesday 7 March 2012

You couldn't make it up - Could you?

Whilst loitering outside the off licence last night, I stopped some bloke who was going in. I sez, "Excuse me mate, can you buy me some beer please?" He looked at me and said, "You must be old enough, surely?" "Oh yeah, of course I am" I replied, "I'm just flaming skint!"

When Non-Stick Nora phoned me on Monday:  “I'm in Tameside Hospital!” She opined. Apparently, she ate what she thought was an onion. However, it turned out to be a daffodil bulb. Doctors say that she’ll be out in the spring!

Whilst donating money to sick animals in the betting shop last week, I said to this stranger, "My granddad is 104 years old tomorrow." "Good Heavens,” he exclaimed. “What's his secret?" I thought for a moment and replied, "He was born a very long time ago."

I was showing my doctor a nasty rash on my left testicle yesterday. He seemed pretty uncomfortable and didn't want to touch it. He just said make an appointment for Friday morning and carried on pushing his trolley around Tesco.

I was chatting to this lovely looking woman in my local pub, The Pit Bull & Stanley Knife, and I said, "If I could see you naked, I'd die happy". She replied, "If I saw you naked, I'd probably die laughing.” What further exacerbated an already embarrassing farrago was that when I ordered a pint of Farquaharsons Old & Filthy Best British Bitter Beer, the young barman looked at me with much disdain and replied, "Do you have any I.D?" I was flabbergasted! "Identification?" I laughed, "I could be your dad." "Prove it!" he replied. So I slapped him round the ear hole and said, "You're grounded, go to your room!"

The missus (or Shrek in a frock, as I lovingly refer to her) phoned me yesterday and proclaimed, "I've got a few pains in my stomach and I feel slightly sick." "What have you eaten?" I politely enquired. She said, "About an hour ago I had a meat and potato pie, chips, peas and gravy, with a jumbo sausage precariously balanced upon the top. Two packets of crisps, a sausage roll, two Kit-Kats and a strawberry milkshake." "That'll be why then" I said, "You're probably hungry." The doctor reckons that she has an overactive knife and fork.

Barmy Albert curtly informed me that he’s applied for the England manager's job. He knows he won't get it, but he reckons that it keeps the dole people off his back for another couple of weeks. Moreover, another pal of mine made the mistake of applying for the Wolves job. He's got to go for an interview on Monday.

Thought for Thursday: You don't stop laughing because you grow old. You grow old because you stop laughing.

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