Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.
You get to be burdened with debt if you can’t budge it.
Fun Stuff
Follow the fishes’ FARTs
Talking of Brannon’s Ghost that was known for breaking ‘wine’, I read the other day of the results of a scientific study in Vancouver into the utilization of this bodily gas expulsion by shoals of fish for communication purposes.
‘It sounds like a high-pitched raspberry!’ Ben Wilson told a convention of aquatic scientists, ‘And is caused by bubbles coming out of a herring’s anus.
For decades we’ve wondered how shoals of fish kept together at night and now we know,’ he concluded triumphantly.
‘They emit a Fast and Repetitive Tick which enables them to communicate after dark. This is useful in commercial as well as scientific research for now fishermen should be able to locate shoals of herring at night simply by tracking their FaRTs.’
Dennis Higgs of the University of Windsor in Ontario commented,
‘I’d not have thought it, but fish do very strange and diverse things’.
I was tempted to tell him of this friend of mine (well, acquaintance!) who, after six pints of Guinness, could render a full verse of ‘White Christmas’.
But I didn’t wish to encourage him.
Well, either of them actually!!
Fumbling Robbers
The restaurant clientele was naturally fearful and concerned when three armed and masked men appeared at the door, intent on robbery. When the robbers failed to gain entry, people inside became puzzled.
Customers had entered easily. The large notice said [SLIDE] so they simply slid the reinforced glass door to one side. These guys tried pushing – then pulling. Then they put their collective shoulders to the door.
Geese for the Cooking?
These two neighbour men were forever falling out over a right of way. The problem was that one had to get through the other’s fields to get to his own. The thing was resolved in a peculiar way!
He put he’s coat and boots on and walked to town. In the lawyer’s office he stated his case and gave his name and address and that of his neighbour and rival. When he heared all the in’s and out’s of it,
‘Man!’, he says, ‘Begor, och aye, but ye have the great case there entirely! Shure we’ll win that aisy!’
(That’s the way them soliciting men talk. Didn’t ye know?)
He agreed till take the case and the man walked home to Fathom.
Meanwhile didn’t yer other man, not to be outdone, walk into Newry too to get he’s own lawyer.
Hell’th o me sowl, if he didn’t pick the self same lawyer as the first man, who was now back working he’s farm. When he’d heared all the in’s and out’s of it and was given the same names and addresses as before, why, even the lawyer man caught on it was the same case.
Well, that left he’em wi’ a dilemma for he couldn’t fight the same case for the two of them. He thought a wee while about it.
‘Man!’, he says,
‘Begor, och aye, but ye have the great case there entirely!
Shure you”ll win that aisy!
The on’y thing is, I’ll that busy I can’t take yer case.
BUT …
I’ll give ye a letter to take till another lawyer.
Besides meself, he’s the best lawyer in Newry.
He’ll fight it fir you.’
Hell’th o me sowl, but if yer man, no sooner than he got outa that office, didn’t he open the letter in a yard nearby and read it.
‘I’ve got a hoult of two fat geese from the country’,
it read,
‘You pluck this one and I’ll pluck t’other!’
Divil the step did he make for the other lawyer’s office at all but made a bee-line home an’ up to his neighbour’s farm.
The neighbours and former friends settled the trouble between them then and there, shook hands and never the cross word after.
An’ isn’t it a tarrib’ pity the young married wans couldn’t settle their differences the same way instead o’ making them soliciting men even fatter and richer?
Old …. never die..
Match these phrases with their endings below:
before that, however, try guessing the answers…
Old teachers never die, they just lose..
Old golfers never die, they just lose..
Old convicts never die, they just lose..
Old sculptors never die, they just lose..
Old bankers never die, they just lose..
Old actors never die, they just lose..
Old professors never die, they just lose..
Old Egyptian tourists never die, they just go..
Old surgeons never die, they just..
Old farmers never die, they’re just..
Old geometry teachers never die, they just..
Old hookers never die, they’re just..
Old journalists never die, they just get..
Old rulers never die, they’re just..
Old magicians never die, they just..
Old pilots never die, they just go to..
Old thieves never die, they just..
Old foresters never die, they just..
Old vets never die, they just..
Old upholsterers never die, they just..
Old puncture repair men never die, they just..
Old blacksmiths never die, they just..
Old bakers never die, they just lose..
Old butchers never die, they just..
Old tailors never die, they’re just..
Answers:
..their class
..their balls
..their appeal
.. their marbles
.. interest
..their parts
.. their faculties
..go senile (think about it!)
..get bypassed
..put out to grass
..go off on a tangent
..laid off
..depressed
..thrown away
..disappear
..to a higher plane
..steal away
..pine away
..go to the dogs
..don’t recover again
..are retired.
..forge on!
..the bap!
..get the chop!
..stitched up!
Your own contribution to Guestbook, please!
Travelling Companion
A certain young man climbed on board of the overnight ‘sleeper’ train alone. He did not intend to fall asleep and he hoped for an interesting or amusing companion with whom to while away the hours in conversation. Suddenly walking up the carriage he spotted the most beautiful, shapely young blonde he had ever seen. Please, please! He thought.
Sure enough, she took the seat beside him.
Giving her a few minutes to settle in, he finally opened a conversation.
‘Excuse me, miss, is this a business or pleasure trip?’
‘Well, both.’ She spoke gaily and with easy fluency.
‘I’m going to a Nymphomaniacs Convention.’
He gagged, but finally recovered enough to speak again.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, what do you do?’
‘Oh, I don’t mind. I’m a lecturer. I’m delivering a lecture on ‘Common myths of sexual mores and practices.”
‘Very interesting,’ he managed to splutter.
‘It is really, you know. For example there is a commonly held myth that the best endowed men are Afro-Americans. They’re not. It is the American Indian who is.’
‘Yes?’
‘And French men are said to make the best lovers. Not true, either. It is the Greeks.’
‘Really?’
‘But excuse me, how rude I am! I neglected to ask you your name.’
He took a deep breath.
‘Oh, me? My name?’ he answered.
I’m pleased to meet you.
My name is Tonto Papadoupalis!’
Agnes: Poverty Ended
Dear Agnes,
You are doubtless aware of the so-called Poverty Report published today that alleges some 8% of children in Northern Ireland live in poverty.
Have you ever heard such rubbish? Everybody knows there is no poverty any more! My goodness, it’s all some want to talk about at our Coffee Mornings and Candlelit Dinners!
It goes on that a quarter of them live in houses without gas or electricity! Well, that really lets the cat out of the bag, doesn’t it? Are we supposed to believe they’ve all got AGAs, for heaven’s sake?!
And it says one in seven don’t eat three square meals a day!! Well, I ask you, who does?? I never could get our only boy Cyril to eat his greens before he went up to Cambridge! Since I took up aerobics, poor Tristan, my husband cannot even remember when last he got a five-course meal!
I read on teletext (what would we do without it?) that this so-called Save The Children outfit estimate 32,000 children here live in ‘severe charity’. Well, I’d like to ask them, who do you think collects all that charity money at our Coffee Mornings?
Of course there’s a few people who don’t have a second car or a little pad in the country. But that’s life, isn’t it, Agnes? We’re quite comfortable, thanks to Tristan’s hard work, and many are much better off than us, but do you hear me complain?
Even Jesus said, ‘the poor are always with us’.
Tell the truth, Agnes, don’t all these ‘bleeding hearts’ just get on your goat?
Yours truly,
Charity Bigginsere
Dear Charity,
I’ve tried hard, God knows, to think of one redeeming feature of you, but the best I can say is that your mother clearly had a sense of humour that you unfortunately did not inherit!
I don’t own a goat.. nor much else besides. I’m concerned for poor Tristan who must be wasting away deprived of his 5 Course Candlelit Dinners!
I am prepared to accept an invitation to your next Coffee Morning.
I am certain that your social circle would benefit enormously from a radical dose of harsh reality!
Agnes Dayee
Santa the worse for wear
As with most other unpaid, voluntary or occasional occupations, it is becoming increasingly difficult to recruit suitable applicants to play the role of Father Christmas now deemed essential at this time of year for SMEs, institutions and the like. Beggars can’t be choosers and you make do with whoever you can get.
I suppose it was fortunate he was addressing pre-school age children who surely must have been unaware that he was a little the worse for wear when he arrived. ‘Water! Water!’ he gasped as he walked in. Suitably refreshed, he advised the infants to instruct their parents to leave out some bottles of Guinness for Santa on the fateful night. ‘Santa’s very fond of Guinness!’ he chuckled. Then he settled into his role.
He veered recklessly from encouragement to admonishment when he learned what the children expected to receive from his Christmas Eve visit. He told of his grand-daughter who expected a computer but it couldn’t be afforded. She can want all she likes, he added. Looking to the astonished teachers he began to discuss relative prices in various town shops.
He clearly took a shine to one little girl, whose demands were very modest.
‘Wouldn’t you like a bicycle?’ he smiled.
‘Oh, can I? Can I?’
‘Of course. I’m sure you deserve a bicycle!’
I don’t know why I found this amusing! There’ll certainly be ructions in one Newry household when Santa’s promises are not fulfilled.
I think the teachers were relieved when he finally left. For anyone who works in a school nowadays, every word must be carefully weighted against the possibility of litigation.
Everybody bar Santa, it seems!
Agnes: Computer Woes
Dear Agnes,
I know you are a computer expert and perhaps the very person to help me. I’ve had a lot of trouble with mine!
The man said I could fax with the machine so I held the paper up to the TV (or is that the monitor?) and hit ‘Send’ but it didn’t. I can’t find the ‘ANY’ key that it keeps telling me to Press.
Then it started to tell me I was ‘bad’ and an ‘invalid’. Isn’t that just rude?
I tried printing but the machine said it couldn’t find the printer. I turned the TV thing round to face the printer, but it still couldn’t find it. I called the helpline but the fellow just wanted to know if I was operating under windows. I told him the light was fine, I could see well what I was doing! He told me to type ‘P’ to bring up the Programme Manager. I told him I couldn’t find the ‘P’.
‘P on your keyboard’, he roared. Now, I wasn’t going to do that!
Then my coffee-cup holder broke! You know that drawer that keeps popping in and out. Well, no sooner did I rest the full cup of coffee on it that didn’t it pop in again and spilled the hot liquid all through that big tower box. I filled the bath-tub with soap and water to clean it all out. But it did no good!
Agnes, do you think he was taking the p*** outa me?
Yours truly,
Henry Pratt
Dear Henry,
Box it up and send it back.
You’re too stupid to own a computer.
Agnes Dayee