Manchester Police are on the hunt for a drag queen who robbed a High Street Jewellery Shop. They have ascertained that he's a local man with a Wigan address.
Non-Stick Nora was eavesdropping on a conversation in The Pitt Bull and Stanley-knife pub between two car mechanics discussing the benefits of swapping over the wheels of a car from left to right. Apparently, this helps reduce the tyre tread wear. Now, Nora herself doesn’t have a car, but she did notice that the heel of her right shoe was wearing out much faster than the heel of her left shoe. Ever since she started wearing her right shoe on her left foot and her left one on her right foot, she’s really noticed her shoes wearing down equally. Nora reckons it’s a real money saver, although it makes sauntering up Scropton Street back snicket a little bit more arduous and attracts much unwanted attention from many amused passers-by.
A clown wanders into The Pitt Bull and Stanley-Knife pub, and his general demeanour really is quite appalling. He asks the barmaid for a beer, but tells her he’s skint and won't be able to pay for it. Elsie, the benevolent barmaid, takes one look at his fizzog and decides he needs it. "Sure, mate. You look awful. Wanna talk about it?" The clown downed the pint and replied: "Gadzooks! Today is the worst day of my entire life. I'm in town for the comedy festival, but my Joke Gopher was stolen, my show was cancelled, my hotel reservation was cancelled because of the show, and my bank accounts have been frozen!" He slumps in his seat and shakes his head. Elsie, the barmaid, pours him another beer. "Wow, that's a really awful day. Pardon my ignorance, but what's a Joke Gopher?" The clown shakes his head again. "Not much these days, or I wouldn't be begging for drinks!" Poor clown. I wouldn’t like to be in his shoes. Altogether, fifty-two clowns attended the festival, and they all arrived in the same car! Apparently, when the clown's wife was in labour, he read her some of his jokes to distract her from the pain of the contractions, but she wasn’t amused. It must’ve been the delivery…
At the comedy festival, there was the annual joke competition, and the prize was £100. The winning gag was submitted by comedian Joe King and went as follows: “Two hunters are out in the jungle, when one of them collapses. He doesn’t appear to be breathing and his eyes are glazed. The other bloke whips out his phone and called the emergency services. He exclaimed: “My friend is dead! What should I do?” The operator replied: “Calm down. I can help. First of all, let’s make sure he’s dead.” There is a silence. Then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy sez: “Okay. Now what?”
Fascinating Fact; Dyslexics are teople poo…
Barmy Albert pulled up a stool in the Pitt Bull and Stanley Knife pub and declared: Non-Stick Nora must love me more than any woman has loved any man on this planet!” Young Willy Eckerslyke asked him: “Whatever makes you say that, Albert?” Albert beamed with pride and announced: “Last week, I had the flu and had to take a few sick days off work. She was so thrilled to have me at home that whenever the milkman called in the morning, she’d sprint down the driveway frantically waving her arms and yelling: “My husband’s home! My husband’s home!”
Parting is such sweet sorrow. I am away on holiday for the next fortnight, and this column will reappear sometime in May. You can still have a chortle by visiting my Jokey-Bloggington via my website: Just clickety-click on www.ComedianUK.com and exercise your guffaw glands!
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