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Monday 20 January 2014

Three People Who Can Walk On Water...

Three people were able to walk on water...
There was Jesus...
There was Saint Peter...
and then there was PEDRO!
Pedro, who the f**k is Pedro?

The missus (I call her ‘Babe - you’ve seen the film.) sent me out to get some milk last night and I returned five hours later. "Where the hell have you been?" she screamed. "The shop was sold out of milk," I replied, "So I went to borrow some from the landlord in the local pub." "Well, where is it then?" she asked. I said, "He didn't have any either." She then apologised to me for the first time ever. She said she was sorry that we ever met!

Why not pretend that you’re Sir Alex Ferguson? Retire. Then go into work every day, just to stare at the hapless bloke who got your old job. Moreover, if you worked at your local Job Centre and got the sack, the downside would be that you’d still have to go in there the next day. Fascinating!

I hate watching the telly after two o'clock in the morning. What is it with those people in the bottom right hand corner who think they can dance? They are so annoying! Get off my telly!

The week before last, whilst I was putting away all Christmas stuff in the loft, I came across a 1977 copy of TV Times, or the Sex Offenders Register as it is now known. Top of Form

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Yorkshire wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man? Mustering one great final effort,
he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture.
 His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon.”Sod off'” she said, “They’re for the funeral”.

 A little girl and a little boy were at nursery. The girl approaches the boy and says, "Hey Tommy, you wanna play house?" He says, "Sure! What do you want me to do?"  The girl replies, "I want you to communicate your innermost thoughts." "Communicate my innermost thoughts?" said a bewildered Tommy. "I have no idea what that means." The little girl smirks and says, "Perfect. You can be the husband." 

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