BAFTA award winner Conclave is a filum starring Ralph Fiennes as Cardinal Thomas Lawrence, who in a nutshell is the head of a group of Cardinals whose role it is to select the next pontiff to succeed Pope Francis. Apparently, the hot favourite is Archbishop Cardinal Angelo Si Scola of Milan, 83 to be the successor to Pope Francis. So, it's true then! The next pontiff will be known as Pope Si Scola! You couldn't make it up!
On the same subject, who should meander down the red carpet at the New York Hilton Hotel, but the Pope! The man himself, clambered into a yellow taxicab and the driver was thunderstruck. He sez: “Your Holiness. I am you humble servant How can I serve you?” The Pope exclaimed: “I have an international emergency, my son. I need to get to the airport forthwith!” The taxi driver sez: “It’s rush hour, your Holiness and rush hour in New York is horrendous!” The Pope makes the sign of the cross and informs the taxi driver: ”If you can get me to the airport, within the hour, I’ll give you a thousand dollar tip!” The driver opines: “But I have two speeding violations already and if I get a third, I’ll lose my livelihood.” The Pope again made the sign of the cross and replied: “Well, what if I still give you a thousand-dollar tip and you let me drive the cab?” They shake hands on the deal and just as they get two minutes from the airport, a speed cop pulls them over. The cop is overawed when he sees who is in the taxi and gets straight on his radio to headquarters. He speaks with his captain and asks him what he should do if he pulls someone over who is really important. The captain shouts over the radio: “Are they more important than The Mayor of New York City?” The cop answers: “Definitely!” The captain continues: “Is this guy more important than Donald Trump, the President of the United States of America?” The exasperated cop replies: “Captain, this man is so important, the Pope is driving him around!”
Last week, I asked the wife what she would like for Valentines Day. She sez: “You can get me anything from The Body Shop. I got her a front near-side wing for a Ford Focus. Yes, you’ve guessed, it was the wrong colour! All the mither I go to and I still get no better thought of…
Beware of scams on the internet! For Valentines Day, I ordered the missus an 18-Carat gold necklace, but they sent a set of golf clubs instead! Exercise extreme caution with rogue traders too! I paid a carpenter two thousand quid in advance to make me a King-Size bed and he’s only gone and done a bunk. It’s just one thing on top of another!
Wallpaper peeling off windows all steamed up. If any of my readers know how to fix condensation, please call round to my house. The kettle is always on.
Non-Stick Nora and Barmy Albert were ensconced in The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife pub larruping copious tankards of ale , when this absolutely stunning young woman comes over to their table, gives Albert a big snog and informs him that she’ll see him later, then casually saunters off. Nora glares at him and asks him: "Who the flippin’ hell was that?" "Oh," replies Albert: "She's my mistress." "Well, that's the last straw," declares Nora. "I've had enough, I want a divorce." "I can understand that," replies Barmy Albert "but remember, if we get a divorce, it will mean no more shopping trips to Scropton Street Precinct, no more summer holidays in Rhyl, no more trips to bingo in Stalybridge, no more swanning around in the Reliant Robin and no more darts, dominoes and meat raffle in the Abbatoir Operatives & Slaughtermans Social Club. But the decision is yours." Just then, Tommy Grabknuckle enters the pub, with a voluptuous blonde babe on his arm. "Who's that woman with Tommy?" asks Nora. "That's his mistress" sez Albert. "Ours is much prettier!" Nora replied.
"Have you ever seen twenty pounds all crumpled up?" asked the wife. "No," I said. She gave me a cheeky little smile, then reached into her purse and pulled out a crumpled twenty quid note, all screwed up into a little ball. "Have you ever seen fifty quid all crumpled up?" she asked. "Nope," I exclaimed. She gave me another little smile, reached into her purse once again, and produced a crumpled fifty-pound note. "Right-Ho!" she said, "Have you ever seen twenty thousand quid all crumpled up?" "Definitely not" I lamented, in an intrigued fashion. "Well, go and have a quick shufty in the garage." Well, at least I know one thing for sure now. The airbag works! It just goes to prove that a woman is a person who can spot a blond hair on a man’s lapel at 4 am in the morning in a darkened bedroom, but cannot see the gatepost with the headlamps on main beam!
It’s always a tad quiet on the showbiz front in January and February, so I sauntered down to the local Job Centre to see if any alternative employment opportunities beckoned. The clerk (She had a face like a murderer’s labourer) curtly informed yours truly that the only vacancies currently available were in data processing. I told her that I was unable to use a computer. She looked at me with much disdain and sez: “In this day and age! You can’t use a computer! Are you some kind of moron?” With all the dignity that I could muster, I replied, “No. It’s a condition of my bail....”
The missus sez: "You should never eat donuts for breakfast!” to me yesterday morning. I told her "My Grandfather lived to be 103 years old." She asked: "Did he eat donuts for breakfast?” I said, "No. He minded his own business." That’s when the fight started!
I stepped back in amazement and the fella behind me stepped back further because he was amazed at how far back I'd stepped, primarily because I was exasperated with the same old boring jokes that are still being circulated around the pub and at work? I’m sure you are too, but no, not me. No sirree! I like the same old boring jokes and that's why I print them right here in this gloppy humour column every available chance I get. Accept me for what I am; completely unacceptable. Click on my joke blog: www.ComedianUK.com or better still email me: comedianuk@sky.com Oh, and If your phone didn’t ring yesterday, then it was me! Start the car!
Beware of scams on the internet! For Valentines Day, I ordered the missus an 18-Carat gold necklace, but they sent a set of golf clubs instead! Exercise extreme caution with rogue traders too! I paid a carpenter two thousand quid in advance to make me a King-Size bed and he’s only gone and done a bunk. It’s just one thing on top of another!
Wallpaper peeling off windows all steamed up. If any of my readers know how to fix condensation, please call round to my house. The kettle is always on.
Non-Stick Nora and Barmy Albert were ensconced in The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife pub larruping copious tankards of ale , when this absolutely stunning young woman comes over to their table, gives Albert a big snog and informs him that she’ll see him later, then casually saunters off. Nora glares at him and asks him: "Who the flippin’ hell was that?" "Oh," replies Albert: "She's my mistress." "Well, that's the last straw," declares Nora. "I've had enough, I want a divorce." "I can understand that," replies Barmy Albert "but remember, if we get a divorce, it will mean no more shopping trips to Scropton Street Precinct, no more summer holidays in Rhyl, no more trips to bingo in Stalybridge, no more swanning around in the Reliant Robin and no more darts, dominoes and meat raffle in the Abbatoir Operatives & Slaughtermans Social Club. But the decision is yours." Just then, Tommy Grabknuckle enters the pub, with a voluptuous blonde babe on his arm. "Who's that woman with Tommy?" asks Nora. "That's his mistress" sez Albert. "Ours is much prettier!" Nora replied.
"Have you ever seen twenty pounds all crumpled up?" asked the wife. "No," I said. She gave me a cheeky little smile, then reached into her purse and pulled out a crumpled twenty quid note, all screwed up into a little ball. "Have you ever seen fifty quid all crumpled up?" she asked. "Nope," I exclaimed. She gave me another little smile, reached into her purse once again, and produced a crumpled fifty-pound note. "Right-Ho!" she said, "Have you ever seen twenty thousand quid all crumpled up?" "Definitely not" I lamented, in an intrigued fashion. "Well, go and have a quick shufty in the garage." Well, at least I know one thing for sure now. The airbag works! It just goes to prove that a woman is a person who can spot a blond hair on a man’s lapel at 4 am in the morning in a darkened bedroom, but cannot see the gatepost with the headlamps on main beam!
It’s always a tad quiet on the showbiz front in January and February, so I sauntered down to the local Job Centre to see if any alternative employment opportunities beckoned. The clerk (She had a face like a murderer’s labourer) curtly informed yours truly that the only vacancies currently available were in data processing. I told her that I was unable to use a computer. She looked at me with much disdain and sez: “In this day and age! You can’t use a computer! Are you some kind of moron?” With all the dignity that I could muster, I replied, “No. It’s a condition of my bail....”
The missus sez: "You should never eat donuts for breakfast!” to me yesterday morning. I told her "My Grandfather lived to be 103 years old." She asked: "Did he eat donuts for breakfast?” I said, "No. He minded his own business." That’s when the fight started!
I stepped back in amazement and the fella behind me stepped back further because he was amazed at how far back I'd stepped, primarily because I was exasperated with the same old boring jokes that are still being circulated around the pub and at work? I’m sure you are too, but no, not me. No sirree! I like the same old boring jokes and that's why I print them right here in this gloppy humour column every available chance I get. Accept me for what I am; completely unacceptable. Click on my joke blog: www.ComedianUK.com or better still email me: comedianuk@sky.com Oh, and If your phone didn’t ring yesterday, then it was me! Start the car!
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