Terrible jokes.

What ho Bloggers!!

As no doubt you’ve noticed,I have had a long,drawn out,some would say a protracted absence from my bloggage. Allow me to explain. This has had to do with me not having a clue what to blog.  To make up for this catastrophic oversight on my part, here are some magnificently rib tickling jokes,wot i filched off my delightful,gorgeous,and  bum squeakingly funny wife.

What’s brown, steamy and comes out of Cowes backwards?
The Isle of Wight Ferry. Okay that was actually the correct punchline, but as it’s factual it has to stand as the correct answer. Indeed, it might have been construed by the typed question, since the word “cows” as many would have understood the spoken version was, in this text version, spelt “Cowes”, indicating the origin of the Ferry.

How can you tell if an elephant has been in your fridge?
It would be fairly obvious. The weight of an adult elephant is around six to eight tons. If by some freak chance an elephant did manage to open the door of your fridge and try to enter it, the fridge would be incapable of bearing its weight, and it would show obvious signs of destruction that could only have been caused by a very large animal. Nearby droppings and footprints would also alert you to the exact nature of the intruder.

My dog has no nose. How does it smell?
Lacking any olfactory function would be a disadvantage for a dog, but it would make up for the loss of that sense in other ways, such as its eyes and ears. In the same way as blind dogs develop a heightened sense of touch and in fact instincts for movement, a nose-less dog could develop ways of detecting prey or other animals by using its other senses. Or perhaps, the Vet could replace the nose?

I took the wife to the West Indies for our holidays. D’you make her?
No, in fact she was keenly excited about the whole idea, as part of her family live out there; plus she took the opportunity to buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes for the occasion. As a result, it turned out to be much more expensive than I’d first imagined.

Why did the chicken cross the road?
In a recent study, 100 chickens were loosed on a busy main road. It was discovered that 87.3 percent of them ran away from the road rather than towards it; 5.1 percent were killed by oncoming traffic; 6.4 percent ran around in circles in a disoriented manner and only 1.2 percent made it across the road intact. It was concluded that the natural hesitation of a chicken to cross a road would prevent it from doing so in the overwhelming number of incidences. The example cited above, therefore, in anomalous.

What did the earwig say when he fell off the wall?
Due to my diminutive stature and the protective properties of my carapace, I assume there will be no bad effects from this accident.

An Englishman, an Irishmen and a Scotsman went into a pub…
But unfortunately it was National Stereotype Day, so they couldn’t get a drink. Because the Irishman couldn’t make himself understood, the Scotsman wouldn’t pay and the Englishman didn’t want to make a fuss about it. So they all went home again.

What’s black, white, and read all over?
Probably a book (if the paper that is used is in fact white, not cream or another light colour) or something like a newspaper, since magazines are often too colourful to answer the specifics of this question.

Doctor, doctor, every time I drink tea I get a sharp pain in my eye.
This could possibly be caused by a corneal infection in which the cornea can becomes inflamed or infected, maybe by repeated steam issuing from the teacup; another possibility is Blepharitis since that causes a sensation of grit in the eyes, and sometimes pain. If there seems no obvious problem, we will do a test for Optic Neuritis, but that would be a more serious matter involving a possible autoimmune condition. But I’ll write you a prescription for some painkillers. Come back in a week if you’re still experiencing symptoms.

 

Pesticide ,or evidence of addiction?

Is this thing on??  Oh Hello bloggers. Yes,it’s me..you remember..the bloke who blogs..bloggerates..emblogs..Oh you rascals,you had me going there for a minute. Yes yes,très amusant!  as if you’d forget me.  Yes I have been absent of late it’s true. I’ll come clean with you,for some unknown reason,I lost the ability to blog. Journalistic constipation ..A lack of wit. But following a regime of high fiber, I am back in the flow of things..as t’were. Do you know what caught my attention just the other day, in the tabloid press…It even made the broadsheets!! The EU directive,prohibiting the use of coffee grounds as a way of deterring slugs and snails. Yes you heard..read me correctly..The nice ladies and gentlemen in Brussels have ruled that gardeners are breaking the law ,if the use the age-old remedy for those slimy fiends. You could( I kid you not) be arrested for scattering your used coffee amongst your Brassica patch and in and out of your strawberries. the RHS ( royal horticultural society) has warned that any gardener using coffee granules or grounds to deter slugs and snails falls foul of EU regulations. They say that any active ingredient or chemical used in gardening  must be explicitly approved and placed on the EU list of pesticides. ” This is to prevent people using home-made remedies in a dangerous manner”.

Now, I’d claim, should the riot squad  cordon off my sprouts,and seize my legumes, that I had not in fact laid a single granule..It is in fact evidence of copious coffee consumption by the very pests themselves! Yes, the snails are on 30 cups a day, sloshing back the espresso like there’s no tomorrow.

There you have it!! Actual incontrovertible proof . The slugs and snails love a cuppa.

The wide awake little buggers are whizzing round my rhubarb like the clappers,leaving their dregs behind.

So just remember, when you hear of gardeners being detained at her majesty’s pleasure, you heard it here first bloggers. Toodle pip.

After all, it’s for the little ones.

Sammy.

Brand new bike

Play station three & games

Selection box

Books

Louise.

Brand new roller skates

Nintendo Wii & games

My little pony colouring set

Books

Archie. (As yet unborn)

Levonorgestrel, a second generation synthetic progestogen

Ellaone,which prevents pregnancy by delaying or inhibiting ovulation and inhibiting follicle rupture.

Ladies. Don’t forget to stock up on the morning after pill over Christmas,after all, you may get a little worse for festive cheer,have unprotected sex with a stranger, and end up with a little Christmas gift you hadn’t bargained for. But not to worry eh? After all, your pharmacy will give you, free of charge,with no age checks,the way to kill your unborn, after all,Christmas is for the little ones.

Merry Christmas,One and all.

A sausage and baked bean sandwich

I am in the unique position of finding it difficult, nay almost impossible to think of something amusing/educational to say, And having  an extreme attack of the munchies. So,in order to prevent dead air blog wise, Here is a gentleman I have never met, about to consume one of my favorite gourmet meals, a sausage and baked bean sandwich. Warning, DO NOT try this at home in your best bib and tucker.

 

The true victims of halloween.

If you, like me bloggers, dread halloween coming around, all that “candy” and all that dressing up tomfoolery, spare a thought for the real victims of this festival. Yes thats right, I speak of the innocents, the poor souls cajoled, coerced,manipulated and down right humiliated in the name of demonic fun. What I am about to reveal is not easy to see. You have been warned.

 

Grim isnt it Bloggers. One last thought.

Autumn

morning stroll, kissed by an autumnal breeze
warm russet fingers tipped with ice blue nails
a caress, warm but with the chill of winters bite.
A cutting wind whistles a song that summer sang with green and warm abandon.
No more wandering in warm and sultry nights,zephyrs stroking the face and the senses.
The pungent aromas of beach fires, lovers taking long and aimless walks on starlit summer beaches.
Now the kiss is tinged with a forlorn sigh,
leaves laying in seldom walked sidestreets.
A crimson and ochre carpet looking like the fallen flames of past hot sunny days.
Loves dream, so vibrant and alive and insistant just a few months ago, now wains into long nights by crackling fires in welcoming hearths.
children swaddled in coats and scarves seem to walk slower to school as the world steadies its summer dance
The slow waltz of late autumn before winters intermission of white silence.
Oh come, hurry on the promise of spring, and let green live again.

Lost days. ( One of my own poems.)

As I walk into the house, same house as yesterday

I know it is different.

For today I am married.

I look at my hands, young, clumsy hands

Holding the hand of my love.

 

I walk in the house, same house as yesterday

But I know it’s different.

For today I have a new baby.

A new life, so small and wonderful and dependant.

I look at my hands, shaking, and unsure hands

Cradling my newborn daughter.

 

I walk into the house, same house as yesterday

But something’s different.

While working I missed first steps, first words, first teeth.

I look at my hands, strong working hands

Holding my head to cry.

 

I walk into the house, same house as yesterday

But I know something’s different.

For hanging onto my legs is a little girl,

“I’ve made this for you daddy at school”

I look at my hands, contented, proud hands,

Turning the pages of a bedtime storybook.

 

I walk into the house, same house as yesterday

But I know it’s different

No little children’s laughter, instead a woman, vibrant and young,

smiling as she prepares for a date

I look at my hands, older hands

Handing my daughter the keys to the car.

 

I walk into the house, same house as yesterday

But I know it’s different.

Hustle, bustle hurry and scurry, preparing to leave for my daughters wedding

I look at my hands, sad, happy proud hands

Giving the hand of my daughter to the man she loves.

 

I walk into the house, same house as yesterday

But I know it’s the same

Looking into the eyes of the lady beside me.

I look at my hands, old tired hands

Holding the hand of my love.

 

 

 

The end.

 

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