A career in organised crime....

 

                                                                        

A job is nice but it interferes with my life. Some people’s occupation sometimes reflect their individual persona. Just like the wife (or Jurassic Park in Knickers, as I lovingly refer to her) who has over the years, lost many a good job through the sack. She had to pack her last job in. She had contracted rheumatism in her shoulder and consequently couldn’t throw the harpoon any more. After that most unfortunate farrago, she secured employment with the local council in the capacity of a gritter over the Woodhead Pass. My grandfather, now he was a proper British craftsman if there ever was one. He used to stain floors. He didn’t mean to…… Many folk become thoroughly absorbed in their chosen trade. For example, what about the gravedigger, who was so carried away with his work, that he dug a pit so deep one afternoon that he couldn’t climb out when he had finished. Come nightfall and evening’s chill, his predicament became more uncomfortable. He shouted for help and finally attracted the attention of a drunken fella who was staggering by. " I’m a gravedigger. Get me out of here," he pleaded. "I’m freezing cold!" The inebriated geezer peered into the open grave and finally spotted the shivering digger in the darkness. "Well, no wonder you’re cold, pal," said the drunk, kicking some of the loose sods and soil into the hole. "You haven’t got any dirt on you." He’d obviously lost the plot!

Long before we get to Movember, if anyone wants to sponsor me to eat triangular Swiss chocolate next month, then I’m doing Octoblerone. I’m also taking a vow of poverty. To annoy me, send £10.

                                         

  

When a florist goes to a barber for a haircut, it starts an unbelievable chain of events! After the trim, he was about to pay and the barber informs him: “I’m not accepting any money from you. I’m helping the community of the town today.” The florist was quite touched by this and left the shop. When the barber goes to open his shop after lunch, there is a thank you card and a magnificent bouquet of flowers waiting for him. Later, the local bobby comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay, the barber again informs him: “I’m not accepting cash from anyone today, I’m helping the local community all day.” ‘The policeman is well chuffed and leaves the shop. Later that afternoon, when the barber goes put out the cat, there is another thank you note and a dozen donuts waiting for him at his door. Later that day, a college professor comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay, the barber again replies: I cannot accept money from you. I’m doing community service all day.” The professor is most impressed by the hairdresser’s benevolence and leaves the shop. The next morning when the barber opens his shop, there is a thank you letter and a dozen different books there. Then, a Member of Parliament comes in for a trim and when he attempts to pay, the barber again says: “I cannot accept any money from you. I’m helping the local community today.” The Member of Parliament is absolutely amazed and leaves the shop. The next morning when the barber goes to open up, there are a dozen Members of Parliament lined up waiting for a free haircut. And that, my friends, illustrates the fundamental difference between the citizens of our country and our Members of Parliament.

Barmy Albert is sitting on the bank of the river with a salmon wriggling in a net and an officer from the fisheries board approached him. The officer advises Albert: "Do you know it's illegal to poach salmon out of this river – you have to possess a fishing licence?” Albert sez to the officer: "No this is Sid, my pet salmon. I bring him down here every day and let him go for a swim. He swims across the river and back." "Absolute rubbish!” the officer replies. So Barmy Albert places the salmon in the water and sez: "Just watch this." The salmon swims out and the two men are standing there waiting. Ten minutes goes past and the officer asks: "Well, where's the salmon then?" Albert replies: "What salmon?"
                                            

I bought the world's worst thesaurus yesterday. Not only is it awful, it's awful!



These are difficult times, so I’m going to keep my eyes peeled and my ears to the ground. I’m going to keep my head down and try not get anyone’s back up. I’m not going to point my finger at anyone but I’m not going to stick my neck out either. I’ll always cover my backside and I won’t stick my nose in anyone else’s business. Of course, I’m still going to dip an odd toe in the water but I’ll try not to put my foot in it. Furthermore, my local prosthetics shop has changed hands and prices now cost an arm and a leg. If you need to tickle your funny bone, with stuff that’s humerus, then visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com and crank up your cranium!

                                         

A rare moment of reflection....

                                  

I think it's ridiculous that some morons are letting off fireworks in September. My cat was so scared it ran straight up the Christmas tree.

Non-Stick Nora sends a text to Barmy Albert: “Albert, could you stop off at the local Co-op and get a loaf and some milk on your way home from work. Oh, and your girlfriend Cynthia has phoned.”
Albert replied: “Who's Cynthia?” Nora sez: “Nobody, I just made it up, because I wanted to ensure that you read my text.” Albert curtly announced: "Okay, I’m with Cynthia right now, I thought you spotted us?” Nora opined: “Eh! What! Where abouts are you?” Albert: “Near the local Co-op shop.”
Nora screamed: “Wait there! Don’t you move! I’m coming over there right now!” After ten minutes elapsed, Nora phones Albert and shouts: “I’m at the Co-op now. Where are you?” Barmy Albert replied: “I’m at still at work. But now that you’re at the Co-op yourself, get a loaf and some milk.”

                                            

Ever since I was a child, I've always had a morbid fear of thinking that there was a ‘bogey-man’ under my bed at night. So, I went to see a psychiatrist to seek learned counselling on this underlying issue. I told him: “I've got severe problems. Every time I go to bed, I think there's somebody under it. I'm frightened and I think I'm going bananas.” “Just put your good self in my hands for twelve months,” said the shrink. “Come talk to me three times a week and we should be able to rid you of those fears...” “How much do you charge?” “£120 plus VAT per appointment,” replied the doctor. “I'll sleep on it,” I sez. Six months later, I bumped into the doctor on the High Street. “Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were having?” he asked. “Well, at £120 quid plus VAT per visit, multiplied by three times a week, for a whole year is an awful lot of moolah! The barman in my local pub, The Pitt Bull and Stanley knife cured me for nothing. I was so happy to have saved all that money, that I went and bought myself a new Land Rover Evoque!” “Is that right!” With a bit of an attitude, he replied: “And how, may I ask, did a mere bar person cure you?” “He told me to cut the legs off the bed! - Ain't anybody under there now!”

I’ve joined a wine club. We meet in the park at 8am. See ya there! Fetch a bottle!

They reckon (whoever ‘they‘are) that in the very near future, Blackpool is to undergo radical change and will become a sophisticated gambling oasis, comparable only to Las Vegas. I can’t see it. We just don’t do things as slick as the Yanks here, so there will be notable differences. For example, in Vegas, because so many people have heart attacks, the big high-class casinos are now equipped with elaborate defibrillators. They are computer-controlled to deliver the precise level of electric shock needed to revive a heart attack victim. Whereas, if you were in Blackpool they’d just probably drag you across the nylon carpet and touch your finger to the faux brass door knob. It’s like Neil Armstrong’s first words when he landed on the moon. "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind". You wouldn’t hear such profound metaphors from a resident of the northern hemisphere of the United Kingdom. If a Yorkshire lad landed on the moon, he’d survey his surroundings and say summat like: "There’s no way a cow jumped over this!" We are not cultural bedfellows at all – we never will be. We’re incompatible. I remember when they built a Disney world in Tokyo. It was the only place in the whole world, where everyone was too small to go on the rides. The only comparison to Vegas in Blackpool would be that you could get sex in return for chips!

In a rare moment of reflection, the missus sez to me: “Do what you love and the money will follow.” So, when she went to work, I ordered a 12inch pepperoni and mushroom pizza, drank a half bottle of fine Argentinean Malbec, had a bet on a horse called Chunky Monkey that was running in the 2-30 at Haydock, followed by a snooze in the afternoon and then took lots of selfies with all my dogs. Now I wait....

My mate Dave has been ill in bed for the past couple of weeks, so I went around yesterday and took some DVD’s and a bottle of Argentinian Malbec. Fingers crossed he won't notice they're gone....

                                    

Wit is often a mask. If you could peer behind its gossamer façade, you would find either genius meandering or chutzpah sauntering. That’s why you should never let your mind wander. Summat that small shouldn’t be out on its own. Nurse, fetch the screens! Visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com or email me:comedianuk@sky.com

They're eating the cats!

https://www.facebook.com/share/r/uAuXs7se3hUQdbUG/ 

The Stalybridge Strangler strikes again!

                                              

“They’re eating the pets of the people who live there,” Donald Trump shouted during the ABC debate last week, as vice-president Kamala Harris laughed disbelievingly. What exactly were they scoffing? Roast beef and Yorkshire Terrier?

 



The sheep spend their whole lives fearing the wolf. However, their eventual demise is solely determined by their trusted guardian, the shepherd. Once you understand this fascinating fact, then the farrago radically alters and you can begin to comprehend the idiosyncrasies of politics. Moreover, an identical principle applies if someone is murdered. In this case, the police would automatically assume that the spouse of the unfortunate victim is the prime suspect. This scenario also tells you virtually everything you need to know about marriage…

Non-Stick Nora collared Barmy Albert and proclaimed: “The circus is coming to town and they have an amazing dancing bear and I’d love to go and see it!” Albert told her that he was busy at work, but they could go next year. The following day, Nora told Albert that the next-door neighbours went and they had acrobats on the tightrope and they were doing the Hokey-Cokey right up there on the wire! Albert sez: “I’d love to take you, but I’m snowed under at work.” The next day, Nora was ecstatic when Albert arrived home and she gushed: “The newsagent told me that he went and they had a dozen clowns who all jumped out of a tiny car and they all did the Can-Can, then the lion tamer and the girl who rides the elephants did a waltz and it was so romantic! Can’t we go? It’s the last day tomorrow.” Barmy Albert reneges and phones his workmate Sid to go in and cover for him. The next day, Albert’s boss notices he’s absent and asks Sid where he is. Sid replied: “Oh. Albert can’t come in today, due to four unseen circus dances.”



Octogenarian Elsie Grabknuckle, a lifelong Elvis fan was marrying for the fourth time. I interviewed her for an article in this newspaper. I asked her what her first three husbands did for a living. With a saturnine grimace, she told me; “My first hubby was a bank manager, after that I wed the lead singer of a rock group, then after that, I married the local vicar. Finally, I got married to a funeral director.” I asked her why the four men all had such diverse careers and she replied: “I married one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go”

Whilst sauntering down Scropton Street yesterday, I got knocked over by a cyclist. It was entirely my own fault. I was walking on the pavement.

Nod your head if you make every endeavour to breathe more quietly whilst walking up a steep hill, so bystanders can’t hear you fighting for your life, like you’re being throttled by The Stalybridge Strangler!
                                                          

Are you totally fed up waiting for the water to commence boiling while you’re making spaghetti? Why not boil a few gallons at the beginning of the week and freeze it in readiness for the weekend. Follow this column each week for more of my household tips.



I actually made a car from left-over spaghetti. The missus didn’t believe me until I drove pasta. My new car has a button for everything! There is even a button that says: ‘Rear Wiper’. However, I’m still afraid to try that one….




In days of yore, windows were an oblong glass aperture in a room. Whereas, application was for a job. Keyboard was an instrument used by Russ Conway and a mouse would be half of the Tom and Jerry cartoon partnership. A file would be indexed in a metal cabinet drawer and hard drive was an arduous car journey. Cut was with a knife and paste was with Solvite when you wallpapered the room. Web was a spider’s lair and Apple and Blackberry merely fruits! Just clickety-click on www.Comedian UK.com and enlighten your abode and exercise your guffaw glands!

                                                             

 

Blah, blah, blah. Yeah. Right. Whatever.....

 

                                               

Musical Notes: Elvis Presley's coffin was made of Redwood and took three weeks to make. Gene Pitney’s was only 24 hours from balsa. My experimental Asian dish, Pigeon Biryani tasted awful. So, Phil Collins was right. You can't curry dove. I had a picnic with Errol Brown from the band Hot Chocolate yesterday. It started with a quiche.

Attempting my good deed for society, I made an effort at donating blood last Wednesday. Never again! It was like the Spanish Inquisition. Far too many stupid questions. Like, whose blood is it? Where did you get it from? Why is it in a bucket? Blah, blah, blah. Yeah. Right. Whatever!

 Call me old-fashioned, but I’m glad my mother was a woman.

Octogenarian Tommy Grabknuckle had owned a several acres of land many years. He had a large pond in the back. It was ideally shaped for swimming, so he fixed the surrounding area with nice picnic tables and some apple and pear trees. One evening, Tommy decided to go down and take a look at the pond, as he hadn't been there for a while. He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruits. As he neared the pond, he heard screaming voices and roaring laughter. As he came closer, he saw there were a few young women wading back and forth in his pond. He coughed to make the women aware of his presence and they all went frantically to the deep end! One of the women shouted to him, 'we're not coming out until you leave!' Tommy frowned, “I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim, or make you get out of the pond naked. Holding the bucket up, he said, 'I'm just here to feed my pet alligator.” Of course, you can always tell crocodiles and alligators apart. One will see you later, whereas, the other will see you in a while.

                             

  

A shady character pushed a ransom note through my letterbox saying it’s either £5,000, or I’ll never see my wife again. It was a difficult decision, but in the end, I decided to take the money.

Barmy Albert drove his Reliant Robin Interceptor 3 litre Ghia Hatchback Trans-Am 3×3 (twin carb with stabilisers) out of the garage. Taking off down the A57, he floored it to 32 mph, enjoying the wind blowing through the little wisp of hair he had left. “Wicked!” he thought as he glided down Hyde Road, getting caught in the slipstream of a milk float. In his rear view mirror, he spied a police car, blue lights flashing and siren wailing. “I can get away from him, no mither!” thought Albert as he pressed the pedal to the metal and floored it to 43, then 45, then 47 mph. Suddenly, he thought, “What in Harry Hill am I doing? I’m too old for all this gubbins!” So he pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the jam butty car to catch up with him. Five seconds later, pulling in behind him, the efficient policeman ambled up to the driver’s side of the Reliant Robin, looked at his watch and said, “Sir, my shift ends in ten minutes. ”Today is Friday, and I’m off to Rhyl for the weekend. If you can give me a reason why you were speeding that I’ve never heard before, I’ll let you off.” Barmy Albert looked very seriously at the policeman, and replied, “Many years ago, my wife ran off with a copper. I thought you were bringing her back.” “Have a good day, Sir,” said the bobby.

It said on the TV advert that if I contribute just one pound a week, this will supply water for an entire village in the Republic of Congo. So how come United Utilities charge me £229 quid a month for a three-bedroom semi? Is the world going mad, or is it me?

                                                

This is Austin. Austin doesn’t play into the left versus right paradigm, because Austin knows that both wings are attached to the same bird. Be like Austin and think critically and eschew obfuscation by not being involved with perpetrators of terminological inexactitudes. Visit my website: www.ComedianUK.com and continue the quest!

                                   

  

Punchlines Column 22 & 29 August 2024

 

Punchlines Column 22/08/24  

                               

Oasis soup - You gotta roll with it!

                                                               

Barmy Albert has been patiently waiting fifteen years for Oasis to reform, only to lose out on a ticket, because 18 year old Chardonnay from Doncaster just wanted to hear Wonderwall live!  Apparently, I’ve just spotted an Oasis ticket on sale for a staggering £6,000!  Or they will swap for a GP appointment....  Who’d a thowt it!

 

When Barmy Alberts lawn mower broke and went kaput, Non-Stick Nora kept hinting to him that he should get it repaired forthwith. Somehow, he always had summat more important to take care of first, like golf competitions, the lap-dancing club, bowling, darts and dominoes or brewing beer. There was always some other activity or something that took precedence. Finally, she thought of a clever way to make her point. When he arrived home one day, he found her crouching in the long grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. Albert watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. He was gone only a minute, when he came out and he handed Nora a toothbrush and proclaimed: "When you finish cutting the grass, you may as well sweep the driveway too." That's when the fight started. The consultant at Tameside hospital reckon that he will walk again, but he’ll always have a profound limp and an eccentric gait.

 

“Waiter! This soup is cold!” “It’s Gazpacho, sir…”  “Gazpacho!  This soup is cold!”  The waiter then came over to the table and told me: “Sir, your wife has just slid under the table!”  I sez: “No she hasn’t. My wife has just come through the door….”

                              

 

For Sale: Signed photo of John Lennons wife. £10 Ono.

 

Good news is that I’ve got a job washing dishes. Bad news is that it’s at Jodrell Bank…

 

My Dad used to say “Money. You can’t take it with you’” We had some terrible holidays in Rhyl. I recollect walking along the beach one morning singing “Puppet on a String” whilst thinking to myself., this is a sandy shore...

 

I really don't like to gloat, but I've just had a lovely letter from the Inland Revenue informing me that all my tax returns are outstanding....

 

I remember seeing a safety information broadcast that advised people not to turn on the lights if they suspected a gas leak.

That's why I always keep some candles handy in case of such an emergency. Follow me for more household tips.

 

A fireman is polishing his fire engine outside the fire station when he notices a little girl next door in a little red cart with little ladder’s hung on the side and garden hose tightly coiled in the middle. The little girl is wearing a fireman’s helmet and has the cart tied to a dog and a cat. The fire-fighter walks over to take a closer look, ‘that’s a lovely fire engine,’ he says admiringly. ‘Thanks,’ says the little girl. The fireman looks closer and notices the little girl has tied one of the cart’s strings to the dog’s collar and one to the cat’s tail. ‘Little colleague,’ says the fire-fighter, ‘I don’t want to tell you how to run your fire engine, but if you were to tie that rope around the cat’s collar, I think you could probably go a lot faster.’ The little girl pauses for a moment, looks at the wagon, at the dog and at the cat, then shyly looks into the fireman’s eyes and says ‘You’re probably right, but then I wouldn’t have a siren, would I?’

 

I asked my pal Dave what it was like living in Surrey.   He sez: "Oh, you know... it has its Epsom Downs"

 

A Geordie lass went to the hairdresser and asked for a perm. The hairdresser replied: "I wandered lernly as a clood”  She sez: “Whenever I lift me arm up and sniff, it stinks of coconuts”  The hairdresser sez: “It’s Bounty!”

                                       

I just wanted everyone to know that whoever has been in contact with me in the last seven days should stay indoors and contact your nearest test centre. I’m so sorry to all of my friends and family and those who have been in close proximity to me. I have had symptoms for a few days now and it has just been confirmed. I have been diagnosed with being amazing, awesome, hilarious, and completely off my rocker. I was told there is no cure as of yet for all four of these symptoms. If you visit my website www.Comedianuk.com you can see what the problem is.  You can also email me: comedianuk@sky.com  Now, get back to work!