25 November 2012

This week’s edition seems to have a water-related theme.

A special, personal note to those of you who used to live in the UK but now reside elsewhere: cast your minds back to what you recollect about the worst aspects of British weather – those days when it was cold but not freezing, when the sky has a consistent dark, dull grey shade to it and the rain lashes down incessantly so that the roads flood and merely looking out the window at the downpour is enough to soak you through several layers. That’s what the weather has been like for much of the week. Unmitigated misery – it rained, and rained, and rained and then rained some more. Continue reading “25 November 2012”

25 November 2012 – Amusements

We’ve had this before but, as the person who sent it to me remarked, the old ones are the best.

A guy is driving around the back streets of Chippenham when he sees a sign in front of an unkempt terraced house: Talking Dog For Sale. So, he stops and rings the bell. The owner appears and tells him the dog is in the garden. The guy goes into the backyard and sees a nice looking Labrador retriever sitting there.

“You talk?” he asks.

“Yep,” the Lab replies.

After the guy recovers from the shock of hearing a dog talk, he says “So, what’s your story?”

The Lab looks up and says, “Well, I discovered that I could talk when I was pretty young. I wanted to help the government, so I told the SAS.

“In no time at all they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one figured a dog would be eavesdropping.

“I was one of their most valuable spies for eight years running.

“But the jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger so I decided to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security, wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some incredible  dealings and was awarded a batch of medals. I got married, had a  load of puppies, and now I’m just retired.”

The guy is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog.

“Ten quid,” the guy says.

“Ten quid?  This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheap?”

“Because he’s a liar. He’s never been out of the garden.” Continue reading “25 November 2012 – Amusements”

11 November 2012 – Amusements

I’m pretty sure Dad sent this one along – if not, apologies for an incorrect attribution.

FROZEN CRABS & The BLONDE

A lawyer boarded an airplane in New Orleans, with a box of frozen crabs, and asked a blonde flight attendant to take care of them for him.

She took the box and promised to put it in the crew’s refrigerator.

He advised her that he was holding her personally responsible for them staying frozen, mentioning in a very haughty manner that he was a lawyer, and proceeded to rant at her about what would happen if she let them thaw out.

Needless to say, she was annoyed by his behaviour.

Shortly before landing in New York, she used the intercom to announce to the entire cabin, “Would the lawyer who gave me the crabs in New Orleans please raise your hand?”

Not one hand went up.

So she took them home and ate them and they were simply delicious.

Two lessons here:

1. Lawyers aren’t as smart as they think they are.

2. Blondes aren’t as dumb as most folk think Continue reading “11 November 2012 – Amusements”

4 November 2012

Top o’ the mornin’ to ya and may your neighbours respect you, trouble neglect you, the angels protect you, and heaven accept you.

We’re back after a splendid couple of days in Dublin visiting with our Ben and what a grand time we had. Although we had driven through Dublin on a couple of previous occasions when visiting either the south or the west, we’d never spent any time in the city and are delighted that we’ve now been able to do so.

Continue reading “4 November 2012”

4 November 2012 – Amusements

Barty was trapped in a bog and seemed a goner when Big Mick O’Reilly wandered by.

“Help!” Barty shouted, “Oi’m sinkin’!”

Don’t worry,” assured Mick. “Next to the Strong Muldoon, Oi’m the strongest man in Erin, and Oi’ll pull ye right out o’ there.”

Mick leaned out and grabbed Barty’s hand and pulled and pulled to no avail.

After two more unsuccessful attempts, Mick said to Barty, “Shure, an’ Oi can’t do it. The Strong Muldoon could do it alone, mebbe, but Oi’ll have to get some help.”

As Mick was leaving, Barty called “Mick! Mick!

D’ye think it will help if Oi pull me feet out of the stirrups? Continue reading “4 November 2012 – Amusements”