The Dead Duck Farrago....

                                            

Yesterday, I contacted Tameside Hospital to advise them that if my wife's condition should deteriorate, I hereby give my permission for them to switch off the life support machine. They curtly  informed me that this isn't an option for a sprained ankle....

I learn summat new every day! If the missus ever sez: "If anything ever happens to me, I want you to meet someone new...."   "Anything" doesn't include getting stuck in traffic at the end of the M67.

Back in the day, I once met this girl and took her home to meet my parents. My dad whispered to me: "Where the hell did you find her? She's boss-eyed, bald, bow legged and she's got no teeth." I said, "There's no need to whisper Dad, she's deaf as well.”  When I eventually got her in my bedroom, she proclaimed: “You’ve never removed a girls bra before, have you?” I replied: “What makes you say that?” She replied: “The scissors….”

Fascinating Fact: Bigamy: one wife too many; Monogamy; same thing.

                                       

Octogenarian Elsie Grabknuckle brought a very limp duck into the veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest. After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said, "I’m so sorry, your duck has passed away." A distressed Elsie wailed, "Are you sure?"  "Yes, I am sure. The duck is dead," he replied. "How can you be so sure," she protested. "I mean, you haven’t done any testing on him or anything! He might just be in a coma or something." The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left them in the room, and returned a few moments later with a huge  black  Labrador Retriever.  As Elsie looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked at the vet with sad, eyes and shook his head. The vet patted the dog and took it out, and returned a few moments later with a Siamese cat. The cat jumped up on the table and also sniffed delicately at the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room. The vet looked at the woman and said, "I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck." Then the vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced an invoice, which he handed to Elsie. still in shock, she took the bill, "£180! she cried, £180 just to tell me my duck is dead!!" The vet shrugged. "I’m sorry. If you’d taken my word for it, the bill would have been £20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now £180.00."

 

 

Non-Stick Nora goes up to the bar her local pub, The Pitt Bull and Stanley knife. She gestures alluringly to Cyril, the barkeep, who comes over immediately. When he arrives, Nora seductively signals that he should bring his face closer to hers. When he does, she begins to gently caress his full beard. "Are you in charge tonight?” she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands. "Actually, no, but it’s the landlord’s night off and he’s upstairs" Cyril replied. "Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him" she says, running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.  "I’m afraid I can’t," breathes Cyril. "Is there anything I can do?"  "Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message," she, continues, running her hands across Cyril’s beard.  "What should I tell him?" the bartender manages to say out of breath.  "Tell him: "she whispers, "there is no bog roll in the ladies khazi."

                               

Isn’t it very sad, when your kids grow up and leave home to go and stare at their phones somewhere else? You remember all the happy times you’ve had whilst they were little. When my daughter Suzie Nellie (26) was about 5 years old, she had an imaginary friend, who somehow possessed the rather sophisticated nom-de-plume of Copper Du Maze. I was constantly taking the Mickey out of her because of this, however, one day; she got upset and stormed upstairs into her bedroom, slamming the door. I knew that I had to set things straight and went into her room and declared: “I’m very sorry for having a go at you about your imaginary friend and would like to unreservedly apologise.” She looked at me, with tears in her eyes and proclaimed: “Thank you daddy.” With all the dignity that I could muster, I replied: “I’m not talking to you; I’m talking to Copper Du Maze.”

 

Barmy Albert is in big trouble again. After attending a party last week in Stalybridge, he was so drunk that when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he took off all his clothes and tiptoed up very quietly, so as not to wake Non-Stick Nora. It was only when he got to the top of the stairs that he realized that he was on the 237 bus!

 

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