Bountiful bunkum and baloney from bounder Chester Draws...

                                            

Barmy Albert reluctantly agreed to paint the local church. Money was tight, so he surreptitiously watered down the paint to make it go a lot further. Halfway through the job, a violent storm rolled in. Thunder crashed. Lightning struck. Then a booming voice came from the sky: "How very dare you swindle MY church!" Albert fell to his knees and lay prostrate at the altar. "Lord, I'm sorry! What can I do to make recompense?" The voice replied: "Repaint... Repaint... and thin no more!"

I attended a dinner last week where they held a wine tasting event prior to the main event. I must admit that whenever I hear wine experts talk about a ‘complex’ wine, I assume they mean one that doesn't have a screw top. In an effort to improve my limited knowledge, I’ve joined a wine club. We meet at 9 am in the local park every morning.


In the spirit of Wimbledon, I bought a punnet of strawberries and looked on the internet to see the best way to serve them. It suggested I halve the strawberries, sprinkle them with icing sugar and pile cream on top. My verdict is that Preparation H tastes awful!

In the unlikely event I ever get offered three wishes by a genie, I not only have them all planned out in advance, but typed up in a Word document. One of them has fifteen subclauses (so far) to avoid any malicious genie skullduggery and malpractice.

Octogenarian Elsie Grabknuckle was telling Non-Stick Nora that her husband Tommy went to the local Co-op to get some spuds for their tea and he was hit by a van." Nora opined: "That’s terrible! What are you going to do now?" Elsie thought for a moment and replied: “I think I’ll go to the chippy!”.

Isn’t it fascinating how potatoes give us not only French fries, but vodka too! All the other vegetables should sort their life out and step up to the plate!

A shady character in my local pub, The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife, asked if I wanted to buy a pocket calculator. I politely declined and told him in no uncertain terms: "No thanks, I already know how many pockets I have." The wife suggested, on the way to the pub, I drop my trousers at the dry cleaners, which I did. I got a round of applause but was banned from ever going in there again.

                                           

Master of bunkum and baloney, Chester Draws was on the prowl in his Double Glazed Windows company's reception area when he spotted a bloke languishing in the corner, doomscrolling on his phone. He asked him outright: "What are you doing?" The fella replied; wasting my time until I get paid." Chester was furious. "What is your monthly salary?" The guy replied: “Fifteen hundred quid.” Chester then counted out £1500 in cash and gave it to the man. "Take this money and get out! You don't work here anymore!" The bloke silently took the money and left. Chester walked up to the reception. "By the way, who was that guy?" With all the dignity that she could muster, the receptionist sez: "Pizza delivery."

I was in a Top Man store trying to buy a plain grey pin-striped jacket. The cashier asks for my email for the receipt. I told her: “No thanks. Just the jacket is fine.” She stops scanning, looks me dead in the eyes, and whispers: “Please just give me a fake one. My manager tracks my capture rate.” I panic and blurt out, batman@hotmail.com. She types it in, nods slowly, and says: “Thank you for your valued custom, Mr Wayne.”

Thursday Quiz: Q) How do you apply Tartan Paint? A) With a Bay City Roller.

I visited my local Chinese takeaway last night, and she asked me if I'd like to hear The Specials. They gave me Too Much Foo Yung....

                                              

Summer tales from the Scropton Street Back Snicket...

                    

It’s Saturday, and the heat has settled over Scropton Street like a damp towel someone forgot to wring out. Thirty‑six degrees, the kind of temperature that makes even the brickwork sweat. You stand at your window, watching the neighbourhood come to life in its usual, unhinged choreography.

Up the back snicket, the miscreants are stirring — a slow, feral awakening. Paddling pools materialise from sheds like relics of a forgotten civilisation, each one held together by 79% masking tape and 21% blind optimism. Four kids are already submerged in one, splashing around with a lolloping Lurcher and Uncle Derek, who’s cooling his cans of Carlsberg in the same tepid broth.

The shirtless tattooed blokes have emerged for their annual migration, pale as Matthews Turkey Twizzlers now, destined to resemble lobster thermidor by teatime. They still insist they “don’t burn, me,” even as their shoulders audibly sizzle.

The air outside is a cocktail of Factor 30, Lynx Africa, Hollands meat‑and‑potato pies, and the rancid pong of No. 32’s wheelie bin, which has been quietly fermenting since last Monday. Non‑Stick Nora is parading her new £15 fan from B&M like she’s installed full air‑con, while Barmy Albert’s nan sits in her conservatory in a buttoned‑up cardigan muttering, “It’s not that warm.”

The local Facebook group is already in meltdown. Half the posts are “Is this your dog?” The other half are people complaining about children screaming. It’s the first sunny weekend in eight months — they’re feral now. Accept it.

Tommy Grabknuckle is washing his Skoda with Fairy Liquid, blasting Max Bygraves’ 12‑inch Megamix cassette loud enough for three postcodes to harmonise. By early evening, two blokes will be arguing about whose turn it is to fetch more ale, someone’s kid will have lost his front teeth, and the air ambulance will probably be landing because Big and Daft Dave has attempted a somersault off the dog kennel into two feet of water.

Burnham BBC Breaking News Breakfast Bulletin....

 Young Woody Eckerslyke told Barmy Albert: "I'm having a clandestine dalliance with the vicar's wife. Could you distract him and have a long conversation about God and the bible in church for an hour after the service for me?" Woody asked. Albert wasn't comfortable with the concept, but as a good pal, he reluctantly agreed. Once the service ended, Albert began engaging the vicar with all sorts of pointless questions in an effort to buy Woody some time. Eventually, the vicar grew impatient and asked Albert what he was really up to. Riddled with guilt, Albert finally confessed, "Look, I'm very sorry. My mate Woody is having an assignation with your missus right now, and he asked me to keep you distracted." The vicar paused for a moment, smiled warmly, and with all the decorum that he could rally, placed a comforting hand on Barmy Albert's shoulder and sez: "You might want to hurry home, dear boy," he said. "My wife died over two years ago.”

                                                            

                                              

Andy Burnham visited one of the poorest towns in the North of England yesterday and asked the local mayor what the three priorities were to revitalise the area. “The first is the hospital”, he said. “It’s there, but there are just not enough doctors and nurses to fully staff it. Andy pulls out his cell phone, talks for a couple of minutes, and then announces: “Done. When I become Prime Minister, a team of doctors and nurses will arrive at the end of the month” “The second is the potholes; they’re everywhere” He picks up the cell phone again, says a couple more words, and announces: “Sorted! When I’m PM, they’ll be filled within a month. “And the third?” He asks. “The third is cell phones,” the mayor replies. “There’s just no signal whatsoever, and nothing works around here.”



Last weekend, I got home from a gig, and the wife wasn’t there; all her stuff was gone, and her wardrobe was empty. Then right in the middle of the TV screen, I spotted a Post-it note. It read as follows: “This isn’t working – Goodbye.” However, when I picked up the remote control and switched the telly on, it was working perfectly; Graham Norton was on, interviewing Madonna. The missus had me worried for a minute or two there. She’s in a bad place right now. Not mentally, just Gorton town centre.


                                                                

Q) What’s green, fuzzy, and if it fell out of a tree, it would kill you?

A) A pool table.


                                  

A harridan with a face like a bulldog licking frog spawn from a thistle was in Tesco yesterday morning. She put the divider down for the bloke behind her in the queue. He didn't thank her, so she just picked it up and put it back. Honestly, that level of curmudgeonly, misanthropic pettiness was just awesome to witness.





A Moscow citizen goes to buy a car. He goes through all the endless red tape and bureaucracy, fills out the copious paperwork, and counts out all his rubles to pay for the car in advance. The official stamps his papers and says: "All right. Everything is in order. Come back in exactly ten years to pick up your car." The buyer scratches his head and asks: "Should I come back in the morning or the afternoon?" The official gets annoyed: "It's ten years from now! What difference does it make?" The citizen replies: "Well, the plumber is scheduled to come in the morning."



Here we are, 30-odd years on, and the Spice Girls' music has really stood the test of time. It's still bobbins!



An airline pilot goes to his wife and declares: "All my mates are telling me you are having an affair with an air traffic controller." "No, Roger.", says his wife with a big sigh, "I'm not having an affair with an air traffic controller. If I've told you once, I've told you niner-niner times. Roger. Over."

                                             

Non-Stick Nora has two handsome admirers. One of them is a doctor, and the other is a deaf guy. Every day, the doctor gives Nora a red rose. And every day, the deaf bloke gives her an apple.
One day, Nora asks the deaf geezer: "Hey, that doctor friend of mine gives me a red rose every day, and I get the symbolism of that. But why do you give me an apple a day?" And the deaf guy sez: "Eh?”



It was roasting hot last week, and we all should be thankful that it wasn’t snowing. Just imagine trying to shovel snow in that heat!

                                                                      

The thin line between success and failure...

                                                 

The missus was on the warpath. She shouted at me: “You’ve been sat here watching Wimbledon tennis day in and day out. You have no consideration for how I feel. I bet you can't even remember how many years we've been together!" "Fifteen Love," I replied. That’s when the fight started!

It’s Saturday, and it’s 36 degrees. All the miscreants and reprobates who are domiciled up Scropton Street back snicket are awakening. The paddling pools have appeared from the rear of the shed. Every front garden has one that is 79% masking tape and 21% optimism. There are at least four kids ensconced in it, one lolloping Lurcher, and Uncle Derek cooling his cans of Carlsberg in the same tepid water. The shirtless tattooed blokes have emerged like they’re migrating for summer. Pale as a packet of Matthews Turkey Twizzlers at 12 noon, then resembling a lobster thermidor by teatime, still insisting, “I don’t burn, me.” The ambience outside is a fascinating mix of Factor 30, Lynx Africa, Hollands meat-and-potato pies, coupled with the rancid pong of No 32’s wheelie bin that’s been percolating nicely in the heat since a week last Monday. Non-Stick Nora has purchased a 15-quid fan from B&M and is acting like she’s installed full air conditioning in her hovel. Meanwhile, Barmy Alberts nan is sat in the conservatory wearing a buttoned-up cardigan and opining: “It’s not that warm.” The local Facebook group is in meltdown. Half the posts are “Is this your dog?” The other half are people moaning about kids playing outside. “Can they stop screaming?” Karen, it’s the first sunny weekend we’ve had in about eight months. They’re feral now. Accept it. Meanwhile, Tommy Grabknuckle is washing his Skoda with Fairy Liquid while blasting Max Bygraves’ 12inch Megamix cassette tape on his ghetto-blaster loud enough for three adjacent postcodes to sing along to. By early eventide, there’ll be at least two blokes arguing over whose turn it is to visit the corner shop to buy more ale, someone's kid will have lost his two front teeth, and the air ambulance will probably be landing because Big and Daft Dave thought it’d be a good idea to somersault off the dog kennel into two feet of water. Such is life.

                         

 

Fascinating Fact: In football, there's a thin line between success and failure. It’s called Hadrian's Wall.

Further Fascinating Fact: Many moons ago, Little Richard once helped me with the gardening. He lopped all the rhubarb; he lopped bamboo.

TV Top Tips: Watching a fabulous show on Netflix called “The Snotty Conk.” It’s streaming now!
                                  

Back in the day, Adam Ant sold me a guitar for fifty quid, but he told me that for an extra tenner, he would throw in a Stand and Deliver…

 
Young Woody Eckerslyke asked Barmy Albert if he could help re-turf an entire field so he can stage a civil war re-enactment over the Bank Holiday weekend. Albert said: “Sod that for a game of soldiers!”


The missus will NEVER have to worry about me being unfaithful. She’d have to arrange it, forward plan it and then remind me of what time I’m supposed to be there. Then she’d have to tell me what to wear and yell at me while I’m getting ready and tell me that I’m going to be late.

Renowned master of bunkum and baloney, Chester Draws was in his local pub, The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife, trying to chat up his ex-wife in a futile effort to rekindle their failed relationship. However, she wasn’t having any of his pleading, because she realised that he was only after his money back! Divorce is like algebra. You look at the X and think Y?



Thought for Thursday: A baby’s laughter is one of the most wonderful sounds that you will ever hear. Unless it is 3 am, you are home alone, and you don’t have a baby…

                                                  

Phew! What a scorcher!

                                  

Great news for Scotland fans! If you purchased your Scotland shirt during the World Cup, you should still be eligible for the 14-day returns guarantee. 

Barmy Albert phoned young Willy Eckerslyke yesterday and sez: "I've just had a massive argument and a fight with Non-Stick Nora. Have you got a spare bed for a few weeks, until I can find a flat?" "I'm afraid not," Willy replied, "but I've got a sofa, if that's of any help." "Spot on!" he said. "You're an absolute superstar. I'll send her round in a bit."

After all the roasting-hot weather last week, I've been convinced that I require some manner of cation. However, I need to ascertain if it's a vacation, staycation, medication or maybe intoxication. I apologise for the alliteration.



Upon entering 10 Downing Street, Andy Burnham discovered a letter from Sir Kier Starmer. A short cover note informed him: "Welcome to your new job. Please find herewith three envelopes. Open and use when the going gets tough". So, all is well for the first few weeks, and then Andy finds himself facing increasing criticism and pressure, so he opens the first envelope and reads: "1) Blame the previous government". He makes some speeches in parliament and for the press, and the criticism and pressure subsided for a brief spell. However, nothing lasts forever, and poor Andy discovers his approval rating is beginning to suffer. So, he opens the second envelope and reads: "2) Blame the media". With a few suitable speeches, he manages to convince his detractors that he is the victim of a concerted campaign by the media in the pocket of his enemies, and once again, all is well for a while. Unfortunately, things get worse once again, and Andy Burnham finally turns to the third envelope. Taking a deep breath to avoid a panic attack, he opens it, unfolds the paper inside and reads: "3) Prepare three envelopes."
                                        

Barmy Albert's boss asked him, “Why do you come out in a terrible rash when I give you your wage packet? Albert thought for a moment and replied, “It’s because I’m allergic to peanuts!” Non-Stick Nora knew of his nut allergy and used to play Russian Roulette with him, using a bag of Revels…



It’s a sad depiction of society today, when you hide under the bed naked to surprise your wife, then remember you don’t have a wife, and now you’re banned from IKEA.



I woke up this morning with a face full of yellow rice. I must have nodded off as soon as my head hit the Pilau…



Octogenarian Tommy Grabknuckle was sitting at the bar of his local pub, The Pitt Bull and Stanleyknife with a saturnine grimace and looking quite forlorn. "Wassup Tommy?" asks Dastardly Derek, the landlord. Tommy tells him, "I got the words 'Jacuzzi' and 'Yakuza' mixed up." "So?" asks the bartender. And Tommy replied: "Now I'm in hot water with the Japanese Mafia."



Renowned master of bunkum and baloney, Chester Draws is playing golf by himself on a quiet Sunday morning. He comes to a par three over the water and takes out an old scuffed-up ball to hit. As he addresses the ball, he hears a heavenly voice: "Put down a new ball." He looks around, then goes to his bag and unwraps a brand-new Titleist Pro V and tees it up. He hears the majestic voice again: "Take a practice swing." So, he steps back and takes his practice swing. He hears the voice again: "Put down an old ball."
                                         

Do any of my readers know how I can get rid of eight full-grown lions? I think I misunderstood the meaning of ‘Pride Month’.



After an awful argument with the mother-in-law, I told her that there’s a special place in Hell reserved especially for her. Without any hesitation, she gave me an evil smile and sez: “Yes. It’s called a throne!”

                         

 

The Last Farewell...

Yesterday, we bid farewell to an old and valued friend, Dave Robin (aka MacDonald).









We first met in the halcyon mid 1970's, when gigs were aplenty and so were many other temptations of showbiz, which we took full advantage of regularly.

Post gig, we would assemble, along with all the other acts, in The Long Bar on Oxford Street, Manchester, together with most of the exotic dancers from the Bertie Topham stable at The 21 Club, where I was Emcee and Dave performed his sixties extravaganza. After staggering out of the Long Bar, we'd invariably visit Charlie Chans restaurant in Chinatown for Goldie Hawns in Men of Harlech (Prawns in garlic- Teppanyaki style) and further liquid refreshment. In those dark days, the restaurants weren't licensed to serve alcohol after 2am, so wine would be dispensed in a teapot, under the guise of Chinese tea!




He worked at the Golden Garter 1969/72 With the G set trio, and also compered the venue.

Dave also played with The Ivy League for a spell.

He also attended Salford College of Music.



He was an avid comic writer and composed several humorous stories for Stockport-based publications and The Stage Newspaper. Dave always maintained that he bought a second-hand guitar off Adam Ant. It was £50, but Adam told Dave that for an extra £10 he would throw in a Stand and Deliver.

 

We saw each other most weeks and failing that, we'd exchange phone calls containing hilarious banter that was entirely nonsensical and worthy of Edward Lear's rhetoric.




In 1980, I was the best man at his wedding, and the Manchester club circuit was still mega-busy, with doubles at weekends and lots of midweek gigs too.










Rest in peace, dear friend. It was a privilege to know you. Life will be infinitely poorer for your passing.

                        

Straight Up Hormuz....

                                                     

Surreal Scenario: I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that in Makerfield, the Labour MP stood down to run a Labour candidate to remove the Labour Prime Minister. Moreover, folk still voted for Labour! Are we in a parallel universe?

There is something quite quirky and idiosyncratic about a middle-class British couple going for an afternoon sail and almost starting a war with Russia. It's very much like an Ealing comedy.

I ordered a deck of cards from Amazon, but they didn’t arrive, so I called Customer Services, and they told me that they’re dealing with it!

Non-Stick Nora has reached the unfortunate conclusion that her body is no longer a temple. It’s now more of a bouncy castle, which means anyone can have a go as long as they’ve got a quid and remove their shoes first. Yesterday, she told Barmy Albert that he’s not the most idiotic person in all the world, but he’d better hope the most idiotic person doesn’t die.”

Last week, Non-stick Nora’s dog died. In a futile effort to cheer her up, Barmy Albert bought her an identical one. Nora was livid and incandescent with rage! She screamed at Albert: “What the hell am I going to do with two dead dogs!”

Fascinating Fact: Whenever I point the remote control directly at the telly, nothing happens. However, if I accidentally drop it between the sofa cushions, it switches from Netflix to Amazon Prime, opens six different apps, changes the subtitles to Japanese, and mysteriously starts playing Christmas carols!

Three conspiracy theorists walk into the Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife pub and each orders a tankard of Farquharson's Auld and Filthy Ale. Now you can’t tell me that’s a coincidence! They were swiftly followed by a pessimist and an optimist. The pessimist declared: “Things can’t get any worse!” The optimist replied: “Oh yes, they can!” They were both right, and the pair of them went home sober…

Octogenarian Tommy Grabknuckle arrived home and was greeted by his wife, Elsie, who shouted: “What's going on? You have four penguins in the back seat of the car!” Tommy sez: “I know! When I stopped at the traffic lights in Stalybridge, they all jumped into the back seat, and now I don’t know what to do with them!” Elsie pondered this unusual situation and concluded: “You’ll have to take them to Chester Zoo.” Tommy thought it was an excellent idea and set off towards Chester. Later that day, Tommy returned with the same four penguins, only now, they’ve all got buckets and spades. Elsie asked: “I thought I told you to take them to the zoo?” Tommy answered: “I did. We had a fantastic time, so now we’re going to Blackpool beach!”
                                       

Young Woody Eckerslyke had a job interview and got into the lift at Scropton Street Skyscraper and went up to the 15th floor. As he was getting out, the lift operator said: “Have a good day, son.” Woody replied: “Don’t call me son. You are not my father.” The lift attendant says: “No. But I brought you up, didn’t I?” After his interview, Woody got back in the lift, and the same attendant was there. They descended in an awkward silence. Upon reaching the ground floor, the attendant confessed: “I’m sorry.” Woody answered: “Because you thought you were my dad?” The attendant shook his head and replied: “No, son. It’s because I let you down…” This joke is wrong on so many levels.

We all make terrible mistakes as we weave a weary course through life’s rich tapestry. Last night, I slept with my best friend's wife, and now I feel terrible. She must have given me a cold or summat.

                                             

  


                                                 

Life is a rollercoaster!

                                             

Non-Stick Nora was shopping up Scropton Street Precinct and spotted octogenarian Elsie Grabknuckle visibly upset and weeping outside the haberdashery, so she approached her to see what the matter was. Nora says: “Are you alright, Elsie. You look a tad crestfallen?” She sobbed and replied: “No, my best friend Cynthia passed away yesterday while we were at the MECCA Bingo Hall.”  Nora opined: “I’m so sorry to hear that you must have been close? Elsie replied tearfully, “Yes, we were very close. She needed number 37, and I was sweating on number 82 for the full house!”



Many moons ago, I recollect chatting to a lovely young lady in a hotel bar, and we became quite friendly. I asked her back to my room for an evening of unbridled passion, and I drank vintage Champagne out of her shoes. I was paralytic drunk for the next two days. She was wearing wellies.


                                          

It’s 2:00 am, and Barmy Albert is stopped by the traffic police driving a golf buggy and buzzing down the hard shoulder of M67. Albert is wearing a Hawaiian shirt, cargo shorts, and flip-flops.

The efficient policeman walks up and asks, "Alright, buddy, where are you heading in a golf buggy at this ungodly hour?” With a forlorn frown, Albert looks him in the eye and explains: "Officer, I am currently en route to a mandatory, high-intensity seminar on chronic alcohol abuse, the respiratory dangers of chain-smoking cigars, and the psychological toll of staying out late at the clubhouse." The copper looks around the empty motorway and asks: "Seriously? Who the hell is giving a lecture on that at two in the morning in this neck of the woods?" Barmy Albert sighs and replies: "That would be my wife!”



Fascinating Fact: AI won’t replace people. Folks who understand how to use AI will replace people, until AI replaces them too. Furthermore, AI will never replace natural stupidity.



I came home from my local pub, The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife, and my wife sat me down for a serious discussion about our marriage. She gazed at me with much disdain and opined: “We’re at a crossroads in our relationship.” She continued: “One road will lead to hard work and total commitment, whereas the other is a dead end.” I replied: “That’s not a crossroads. That is a T-Junction.” That’s when the fight started!



I remember reading a paragraph in the Tameside Reporter a few years ago. It was a wonderful use of the word 'suspected'. It read: "A man was arrested on Market Street, Stalybridge, yesterday. He was suspected of robbing a launderette on Market Street. He was wearing 13 jumpers, some of which were still damp.”
                                   

Fascinating Fact: I can't get 10CC’s hit song "I'm Not in Love" out of my head! It's probably just a silly phase I'm going through. Moreover, I tried Gary Barlow’s new wine range last night and got really drunk. Can’t remember much of the evening, but just want to say that whatever I said, whatever I did, I didn't mean it.



Top Tip: You should always agree to a quick half-hour beer with friends, because that impromptu hour and three-quarters could turn out to be the best five hours of your entire life!



It’s difficult to believe that exactly twenty-five years ago today, will mark the day that I asked my girlfriend, soulmate and the love of my life to marry me. It’s even harder for me to believe that all three said no…

                                

The Kerfuffle Down Scropton Street Abbatoir...

                                     

The cost-of-living crisis is real! British people don’t actually recover financially anymore. Your income goes into the bank and immediately gets divvied up like a drug cartel payout. Mortgage takes half. Council tax, electricity, gas and water take the rest. Then Tesco somehow charges you eighty-eight quid for what appears to be a leg of mince, a jar of pickled herrings, a lump of scrag end and untold emotional damage. By the third week of the month, you’re sauntering around Lidl whispering: “Do I really need Fairy Liquid or should I start using paper plates and plastic cutlery? Nothing humbles you quicker than after one ‘quick trip’ to B & M. You walk in for four AA batteries and come out £46 poorer, carrying a bamboo bath tray, 14 snacks you’ve never heard of, a lava lamp, patio citronella candles (despite not owning a patio) and a Japanese ornamental Aspidistra shaped like a rugby ball. I also bought some essential oils. I’m wondering how I got through life before I started using them if they're so essential. Isn’t life grand when you’re barmy!

Busy week last week! Ever since joining the Glen Campbell fan club, I keep getting cards and letters from people I don’t even know. Moreover, I had to see my accountant yesterday. His office is on the 7th floor. I asked the receptionist if there was a lift, and she said, “We call it an elevator where I come from.” I reckon we were just raised differently.

Barmy Albert’s mum always told him to be a gentleman and give up his seat on the bus to a blind man. Yesterday, he lost his job as a bus driver.

Many moons ago, when I had my own flat, I remember taking this young lady back one night. Fast forward to the following month, as another girl and I lay on the bed, a mysterious voice announced: “She’s a stone lighter than the last one you brought home!” The girl asked me, “Who the flaming hell was that?” I replied: “It’s the memory foam mattress!” Curses! Foiled again!

                            

Non-Stick Nora attended an auction where she spotted an exotic parrot. She really wanted this magnificent bird, so she got caught up in the bidding. Unfortunately, she kept getting outbid, and the price kept rising, leaving her more tenacious with each bid. Finally, after bidding much more than she had intended, she won the auction. The parrot was hers! As she was paying for the parrot, she told the auctioneer, “I sincerely hope that this parrot isn’t defective. I’d hate to fork out so much money, only to get home and discover that he can’t talk!” “Of course he can talk,” replied the auctioneer. “Who do you think kept outbidding you?”

Yesterday, a strange woman (She had a face like a Chihuahua, chewing a wasp) approached me near the Scropton Street Abbatoir, and declared that she knew me from the Vegetarian group. I’d swear that I’d never seen Herbivore….

Barmy Albert was struggling with his accounts, where he had to separate the VAT from the gross amount. He called Non-Stick Nora and sez to her: “You’re good at maths, so maybe you could help me with this. If I were to give you £300 minus 20%, how much would you take off?” Nora replied: “Everything but my earrings!” Is she a temptress or a Jezebel?

The missus asked me to take her to see Pirates of the Caribbean. However, dropping her off on the Somalian coastline wasn’t quite what she expected. That’s when the fight started!

                                     

The Senseless Scropton Street Stand-off Scenario!

                                                  

Breaking News: Police in Dover have seized 5,000 litres of petrol concealed in a shipment of cocaine!

I’ve got two top-of-the-range EV’s. A Jag and a Porsche. I can’t see what people’s problems are. They look fantastic. The performance is great. Hardly any maintenance. The only small criticism is that if I really push them into a corner, they can fly off the track and get stuck under the settee.

My dad got fired from the M & M factory for throwing away all the W's. He lost many a good job through the sack. He used to work for a company that manufactured toilet rolls and light bulbs. Well, I think he did, because that’s all he ever brought home…

A woman called Tameside Hospital and asked: "I want to know if the patient Elsie Grabknuckle in Ward 7 is getting any better?" The Receptionist replied: "She is doing very well. She had her first solid meal today, her blood pressure is fine and if she continues improving, she might even be sent home in a couple of days!" The woman sez: "Thank God! That's wonderful news!" The Receptionist answered; “I take it you are a family member or a close friend!" Woman sez: "No. I’m Elsie Grabknuckle. No one tells me anything in here!”

                                       

I’ve purchased a new pair of gloves; however, they're both 'lefts,' which, on the one hand, is great, but on the other, it's just not right. I got them from the second-hand shop. Even the local prosthetics outlet has changed hands.

It’s that rough up Scropton Street, where Barmy Albert lives, you have to bring the doorstep in at night! Yesterday, a teenage thug threw a brick through his kitchenette window, and it hit Non-Sick Nora on the head, knocking her out cold. Albert ran outside and chased the spotty, precocious youth. then dragged him back to the house and pointed to the unconscious Nora in a heap on the floor. He grabbed a bread knife and shouted: “It's time to face the consequences of your unruly actions".. Quaking in his trainers, the yoof replied: "What are you going to do?" ”Me?" Albert replied, handing him the knife. "I'm not going to do anything. YOU'RE going to finish making my corned beef butty!"

I told the missus: “In all the twenty years we’ve been together, the only thing you’ve done is correct and contradict everything I’ve ever said!” She looked at me with much disdain and replied: “Twenty-one years!” That’s when the fight started!

Octogenarian Cissie Slopbucket was sitting at her husband's funeral when young Woody Eckerslyke leaned over to her and asked: “Mind if I say a word?” Cissie was pleased with his request, and told him to go ahead. Young Woody clears his throat and says: “Plethora.” And sits back down. Cissie looked at him and sez: “Thank you. That means a lot…”

                               

While I was parked at my local pub The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife, I left my car unattended with my accordion on view on the front passenger seat. Upon my return, some scallywag had broken into my car and left another accordion!

An East Midlands Euro Millions winner is to buy Derby County Football Club. His wife told this newspaper: “God knows what he would have done if he’d got four numbers!!

                                         

                                       

The Andy Burnham Shapeshifting Shenanigans....

                                     

Should it still be called a Bank Holiday now that all the banks are shut? In my humble opinion, it should be renamed Vape Shop or Turkish Barber Holiday Monday. We could also have Tattoo Shop Tuesday. I used to be an atheist, but I gave it up because I wasn’t getting any holidays

There's an old chestnut joke about Andy Burnham that has been recycled since he started making eyes at No. 10. A Blairite, a Brownite, a Milibandite, a Starmerite, an insider, and an outsider walk into The Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife pub. The landlord asks: “What are you having, Andy?” Burnham is such a maestro of political shapeshifting shenanigans that he could walk down the road in Albert Square, Manchester and turn into Downing Street, SW1A 2AA!

Meanwhile, back at Nicholls Ardwick High School, I fondly recollect asking my maths teacher if I would ever use algebra when I grew up. He curtly informed me that I wouldn’t, but one of the clever kids might. I have since concluded that divorce is much akin to algebra. Primarily because you look at the X and think Y?

Prince Harry went to see his dad to reconcile their differences and they were getting along famously until Charles asked him if he wanted a cup of tea. Harry said “Yes please, Father.”. He then asked: “Would you like a biscuit?” Harry sez: “Yes, please”. Charles replied: “Ginger? That’s when it all kicked off again!

                       

  

A woman who only speaks Spanish saunters into Primark. She walks over to a sales assistant and asks: "Donde estan los calcetines?" The assistant doesn't speak Spanish but tries to help her anyway. He holds up a T-shirt saying, "Is this what you need?" She shakes her head, frowning. Next, he holds up a pair of pantaloons, and she shakes her head again. After 5 or 6 attempts, he finally holds up a pair of socks, looking exasperated. The woman smiles and sez: "Eso si que es!" The assistant pulls a saturnine grimace and replies: "If you knew how to spell it, why didn't you start with that in the first place?"

Thieves broke into Barmy Albert's garden last night and stole all his astro turf. Non-Stick Nora saw him this morning looking forlorn...

I shouted the missus and told her: "I've broken a glass in the kitchenette" She replied: "Don’t worry. I'm coming with the broom". I exclaimed: "it's not that urgent, you can come on foot." That’s when the fight started!

Questions about EV’s that require answering: Do you need a current licence to drive an electric car?
Do they store enough power to get Ohm?

                               

Last night on Channel 4, I watched a shocking documentary whilst sitting with both my feet behind my head. It made for some very uncomfortable viewing.

All the members of the company's Board of Directors were called into the Chairman's office, one after another, until only Barmy Albert, the caretaker, was left sitting outside. Finally, it was his turn to be summoned. Albert entered the office to find the Chairman and the other four Directors seated at the far end of the boardroom table. Albert was instructed to stand at the other end of the table. The Chairman looked Albert squarely in the eye, and with a stern voice, he asked: "Have you ever had hanky-panky with my secretary, Miss Scroggins?" "Oh, no, sir, positively not...!" Albert affirmed. "Are you absolutely sure...?" asked the chairman. "Honestly, I've never been close enough to even touch her...!" "You'd swear to that...?""Yes, I swear I've never had any slap and tickle with Miss Scroggins, anytime, anywhere, not no how, not never ever…" insisted Barmy Albert. "Good. Then YOU fire her!”

                                

The bloke who invented the hot tub...

                       

I’ve noticed that petrol pumps are much more advanced and faster than they used to be. It used to take me two minutes to reach sixty quid, but now I can do it in 25 seconds! Well done, petrol stations!

After a dodgy curry, the night before, Barmy Albert attended the weekly darts and dominoes competition at his local pub, the Pitt Bull and Stanly Knife. He was suddenly stricken with the urge to visit the Gents' khazi forthwith. In his desperation, he kicked the cubicle door open, dropped his pants and took his seat upon the lavatorial throne. With eyes like burning embers, he glanced down, only to see a pair of plimsolls betwixt his legs. The plimsolls were attached to a pair of legs. He gingerly stood up, only to discover young Willy Eckerslyke already ensconced upon the toilet! Albert was thoroughly embarrassed and apologised profusely. “Oh, I didn’t see you sitting there.” Declared Albert. Young Willy replied: “I didn’t think that you did, that’s why I pulled your trousers back up!”

I applied to be a TV Reporter. I asked: “What do I have to do?” They said, “Just shout inane and stupid questions at folk going in and out of number 10 Downing Street.”

Barmy Albert told Non-Stick Nora that his mate Jack was the bloke who invented the hot tub. Nora replied: “Jack? Who’s he?”

Fascinating Fact: The United Kingdom is made up of two population groups: The 99% or the 1%. These are made up of the people who want Starmer to resign or support him. You either belong to one, or you are the one!

                                             

  

The missus left me just over a fortnight ago. She said the reason for her abrupt departure was my obsession with Sinead O’ Connor. In fact, it’s been seven hours and 15 days.

Non-Stick Nora was talking to Chester Draws, who is a very famous lawyer. She asked him what his fees were. He told her, “I charge £300 for three questions.” Nora was shocked. She replied: “Wow! That’s pretty expensive, isn’t it?” Chester sez: “Yes, indeed it is. Now what's your third question?”

Two Scousers are riding a tandem just outside Liverpool and inadvertently hit a pothole, which rendered their bicycle in need of repair. So, they start hitching a lift back into town. A friendly trucker stops to see if he can help, and the Scousers ask him for a ride. He tells them they can ride in the trailer if they can fit in with 20,000 bowling balls he is hauling. They manage to squeeze themselves and their bike into the back, and the driver shuts the doors and gets on his way. Wanting to make up time, the trucker speeds up. Sure enough, a blonde police traffic officer pulls him over for exceeding the speed limit. The officer asks the driver what he is carrying, to which he jokingly replies, "Scouse eggs." The blonde lady cop obviously doesn't believe this, so she takes a look in the trailer. She opens the back door and, shocked, quickly shuts it and locks it. She calls for immediate backup and a SWAT team. The operator asks what emergency she has that requires so many officers. "I stopped a Trailer with 20,000 Scouse eggs in it. Two have hatched, and they've already nicked a bicycle!"

                        

Meanwhile, in a muddy meadow...

                                                                

After a thorough thrashing in last week's elections, Sir Kier Starmer asked: “Tell me the truth. Am I totally out of touch with the common man?” “Maybe a little.” Replied his butler. Starmer continued: “I jeer and mock, but my mouth is so full of lobster, Beluga caviar and vintage champagne that I start coughing and almost choke. His butler patted him on the back a few times, and Starmer wheezed, “Don’t manhandle my supreme being, without your Marigolds on!”



I took the missus to see Hamilton. She didn’t enjoy it at all. She thought it was all quite appalling.
They lost 4-0 to Partick Thistle. Other disappointing results were East Fife 5. Forfar 4, so far. Cowdenbeath 2. - Corned Beef 1. West Ham 1 – Boiled Ham 2. In an effort to make things right and get in her good books, I booked us a nice table for two. Turns out that she doesn’t like snooker either. That’s when the fight started!



Barmy Albert had a shunt in his car. When the police arrived, he claimed the woman he hit was entirely to blame. “She was on the phone and drinking a glass of wine at the time. Can you believe it!” With all the dignity that he could muster, the copper replied: “She can do whatever she wants in her own conservatory!”



What pronouns do donkeys go by? He/Haw. What do Blackpool donkeys get for lunch? Half an hour, like everyone else.

                                            

Meanwhile, in a muddy meadow, a pig was lounging about beside a donkey and suddenly declared, “I don’t know how you cope with it all. There you are, up at the crack of dawn, hauling huge loads, grinding grain, dragging a heavy plough through the rough soil, and when the sun goes down, all they feed you is a lump of grass. Whereas I spend my days like a Labour politician with my snout in the trough, eating till I’m full, napping whenever I want to and wallowing around without a care in the world. It sure feels good not being in your hooves.” The donkey glanced at him with a saturnine grimace and replied: “Yeah, right. The pig that was here last year said the exact same thing, and so did Kier Starmer!”

                                       

Thursday Quiz: Q) What seven-letter word starts with ‘egg’ and ends in ‘soup’?

A) Chicken. B) Eggsoup.



Non-Stick Nora was at Stalybridge Station and stepped up to the kiosk to buy her ticket. Nearby, there is a couple hugging and tearfully saying goodbye. Nora says to the clerk in the kiosk: “You must have witnessed a lot of sad good-byes. What was the saddest goodbye you’ve ever seen?” The clerk thought for a moment and sez: “It was a soldier saying good-bye to his dog.” Nora exclaimed: “Really! Where was the dog going?”


I asked my German friend if he knew what the square root of 81 is. He said, “No.”


An elephant escaped from the zoo, and a few hours later, the police station received a phone call from a nearby small village. “A huge rat is standing in my vegetable garden, and it’s tearing up my cabbage with its tail!” The desk sergeant replied: “Calm down! Now what is it doing with the cabbage?” The caller said: “You’re not going to believe this…”



LADIES! Listen Up! You must exercise extreme caution in the ladies' toilet in any restaurant. All the dates that I’ve taken out for a meal have visited the loo and never returned! Spooky or what?

                               
                                                                        

Starmer on toast....

                                           

Today is polling day! I am aware that I’ve said previously in this column that Starmer is toast, but this week it will definitely happen. If it doesn't happen this week, then it’ll most certainly be next week or next month. Next year, Starmer will be a memory, lost in the sands of time. And if he isn’t, then he will be in due course, or the week after that. Vote Imbecile! Because you’ll get one anyway! You read it here first, folks!

On Bank Holiday Monday, I prepared a nice, healthy tuna salad. Unfortunately, I had to improvise a bit. I didn't have any tuna, so I substituted it with quarter-pound beef burgers. Moreover, I didn't have any salad, so I used triple-fried oven chips. I also ate a whole French baguette and my stomach really hurt. I now know the meaning of the word pain. We couldn’t watch Lassie on telly, because it was ban collie day. It’s all political correctness gone mad! The woke agenda is continuing apace!

                                     

 

My father always used to say, "The first rule of theatre is to leave them wanting more." Fantastic bloke, but a terrible anaesthetist. When I was a plastic surgeon, I made a huge mistake with one female patient. When she spotted it, I’ll never forget the expression on her elbow!

Non-Stick Nora went to KFC drive-thru to grab the grandkids summat to eat. They wanted a kids’ meal with a leg, so at the window, she sez: “Kids’ meal with a leg.” The lady on the intercom asked, “Sure, which side?” Nora was dumbfounded and just sat there in complete silence, trying to process this life-changing question. Finally, after an awkward silence, Nora opined:  “Erm…I guess the right side? I don’t really know the difference.” She erupts into laughter and says, “No, Honey. Which side do you want with the leg? Fries, mashed potatoes or wedges?” At this juncture, she threw her hands in the air and said... "Lord, please, take the wheel. It’s been a long day!"

A police traffic officer pulled a car over for speeding on the M67. When he asked the driver why he was in such a hurry, the geezer explained he was a juggler on his way to perform at the Glossop Circus and didn’t want to be late. The efficient copper sez, "I've always been fascinated by juggling. If you put on a little show for me, I'll let you off with just a warning." The juggler got out, lit four torches, and began juggling right there on the hard shoulder. During his performance, another car pulled up behind the police car. A drunk bloke staggered out, walked straight over to the patrol car, opened the back door, and climbed in. The policeman went over, opened the door, and asked, "What do you think you're doing?" The drunk replied, "You might as well take me to jail now, because there’s no way I’m passing that test!"

                                                         

Riddle me this: If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, then doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed. Well, I’m gabberflasted by it all!

I could tell that I was getting old when I started fancying the women in the adverts for affordable cremation plans. I’m losing the plot!

Fascinating Fact: Karl Marx had a sister named Onya, who was the inventor of the starting pistol...

Barmy Albert went to Blackpool, and when he was on The Big One roller coaster, he had brought some spare nuts and bolts. As it started clambering upwards, he tapped Non-Stick Nora on the shoulder and exclaimed, “Nora! These just fell out of the back of your seat.”