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Sunday 6 February 2022

A Freudian slip....

 

                                     






2022 Winter Olympics. This involves Over 100 different ways of sliding. I wouldn’t go down that bobsleigh track unless it’s been gritted!



To the person that stole my new trainers and High Viz jacket - you can run but you can’t hide...



Statistics prove that one in every three women are just as difficult and argumentative as the other two...



With the cost of living and fuel bills rocketing skywards, it’s important to seek out bargains. Yesterday, I bought a book of 1,000 raffle tickets for a paltry £2-50, when they’re usually £1 per strip!



What with the exorbitant rise in fuel bills that are being forced upon us, it might well be cheaper to go on holiday to Barbados during the wintertime, than it would be to heat your home in the UK. Who’d a thowt it?

                                             



The missus reckons that I’m going through a mid-life crisis, primarily because I’ve been wearing all my leather trousers and jacket and sporting a rakish bandana whilst straddling the old two-stroke. Well it’s my mower and I’ll do exactly what I like!



I phoned my old mate Bill Withers and told him that ‘Ain’t no Sunshine’ is appalling grammar. He replied: “I know, I know, I know, I know, I know....”



The above reminds me of when I was in New York and bumped into Paul Simon. I asked him: “Paul, what was that massive hit you had in the 80’s?” He sez: “Call me Al.” I replied: “Al, what was that massive hit you had in the 80’s?”

                                          




I was feeling rather poorly, so I phoned 111 NHS Direct Helpline. After I’d described my symptoms, he sez: “If you can see a bright light, then go towards it....”



Received a strange phone call, yesterday: "Hello, Mr Knight. This is the Official Receivers Office. I replied: "Are you winding me up?"



The missus told me that bikini season is just around the corner. I sez: “Yeah, but so is Domino’s Pizza outlet!”



Barmy Albert arrives home completely paralytic drunk last Saturday night. He staggers through the door and is met by Non-Stick Nora, who is incandescent with rage and not a happy bunny. “Where the flamin’ hell have you been all night?" she demands. "At this new bar," he proclaims. "The Golden Tavern. Everything there is golden. It's got huge golden doors, a golden floor and even the urinal's gold!" Nora doesn't believe all of this addlepated blather and the next day searches Google, finding a pub in Manchester called The Golden Tavern. She calls up the place to verify Albert’s tale. "Is this the Golden Tavern?" she asks when the landlord answers the phone. "Yes it is," the landlord replies. "Do you have huge golden doors?” "We sure do." "Do you have golden floors?" "Most certainly do." "What about golden urinals?" There was a long pause, then Nora hears the landlord shouting, "Hey, Graham!  I think I got a lead on the dude that pissed in your saxophone last night!









Life is akin to a party. You invite loads of people, some leave really early, whereas many stay all night long, some laugh with you, some laugh at you, and some show up very late. But in the end, after the fun, there are a few who stay to help you clean up the shambles. Generally, they aren’t even the ones who created all the turmoil. These people are not just your true friends in life. They are the only ones that matter. I am your friend and you can visit my website 24/7. Just clickety-click on www.ComedianUK.com. You can email me: comedianuk@sky.com. Now, get back to work!




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