Putin a nutshell....

                                          

You can tell that you're getting old, when you have upstairs Paracetamol and downstairs Paracetamol. Moreover, when you bend down to tie your shoelaces and you begin to wonder if there’s anything else that you could be doing while you’re down there. Of course, back in my day, we had to walk to the telly to change the channel. Uphill. Both ways. In the snow!

Last week, my Facebook account got hacked yet again.  That’s the fifth time that I’ve had to rename the dog!

I was on the train into Manchester, when this bloke sat next to me whipped out his iPhone and showed me a photo of his missus.  He sez: “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” I replied: “If you think she’s beautiful, then you should see my wife.”  He sez: “Why? Is she really gawjus too?”  I replied: “No.  She’s an optician.”

During February (The wettest month on record!) the singer that sang: ”Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head.” Has sadly died.  He was drowned!

I went to get my hair cut last Wednesday and the barber was incessantly chatting about football, cricket, holidays, kids, dogs and it seemed that there wasn’t any subject whatsoever he didn’t cover or indeed comment on.  Suddenly, he declared: “Do you know that your hair is going grey?” I sez to him: “Well, get a move on!”

On the same subject, Putin visits his German hairdresser and as he sits down, the barber gets straight to work with the scissors and asks Putin: “How are matters in the Ukraine, Mr President? Is the army fighting well? How are Navy operations panning out?” Suddenly, Putin snaps: “What’s with all the questions about Ukraine? Are you really interested in the special military operations so much?”  The barber replied: “Not really, Mr President, it’s just so much easier to cut your hair, when it stands on end.” Tragically, the barber was reported to have accidentally fallen out of a window, shortly afterwards and shot himself in the cranium four times after he landed. RIP Herr Kutt.

                              

 

Last week, we said farewell to Stan Bowles. He was 75 and he gained a reputation as one of the game's great non-conformists and mavericks. He played over 250 league games for Queens Park Rangers, and earned five England caps. He famously said: “I blew the lot on vodka and tonic, gambling and fags. Looking back, I think I overdid it on the tonic.”  I used to bump into him at many a sportsman's dinner event and I asked him once: “Why didn’t you join Gamblers Anonymous?”  He replied: “They wouldn’t know where to send my winnings!”

I grilled a chicken for about an hour yesterday. It still didn't tell me why it crossed the road.  I tried cooking with wine too. After six glasses in the kitchenette, I forgot what I had gone in there for!

Many moons ago, when Barmy Albert lived in a block of council flats, up Scropton Street, (behind the abattoir.) He surmised that it was raining and put his hand out the window to verify this fact. As he did so,  a glass eye fell into his hand!  He looked up to see where it came from, just in time to see a young woman looking downwards. "Is this yours?" he asked. She sez: "Yes, it is. Could you bring it up?" and Albert agreed. Upon arrival,  she was profuse in her thanks and offered Barmy Albert a glass of wine. As she was really gorgeous, he agreed.  Shortly afterwards she informed him: "I'm about to have dinner. There's plenty of grub, would you like to join me?" Albert readily accepted her offer and both enjoyed a lovely meal. As the evening was drawing to a close the young lady announced: "I've had a brilliant evening. Would you like to stay the night?" Albert hesitated then sez: "Do you act like this with every man you meet?"  "Definitely not! she replied, "only those who catch my eye."

                                           

I've learned that things change, life is like a garden gate, people change, you should never trust a Hefferlump and it doesn't mean you forget the past, like when that Romanian circus kidnapped your chihuahua and covered it up with clingfilm. It simply means that you move on and treasure the memories. Letting go doesn't mean giving up. It means accepting that some things weren't meant to be, because the sun can’t swim. So why not visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com and click on my Jokey-Bloggington and have a chortle! Now, get back to work!