This weeks joke
- Thread starter chrisk
- Start date
Shajota
Hero member
- Location
- Whitsundays Qld
Shajota
Hero member
- Location
- Whitsundays Qld
Ok, plenty time for a good read, I know some will enjoy bush poetry....
(Hopefully entertaining also for those that don't have Aus English as 1st language
)
BLUE AND THE SHEEP ?.the author, Bob Magor
WE pensioned off old Blue the dog,
when old age got him down.
We sent him for company,
to old Grandma in the town.
But while Granny was elated,
Blue still craved the great out doors,
and he would roam the town exploring,
while old granny did the chores.
So it was this Sunday morning,
Blue was fossicking about,
through the paddocks near the township,
on his normal daily scout.
When a canine gourmet odour,
overpowered his sense of smell,
though his eyesight had diminished,
his old sniffer still worked well,
and the sense of his excitement,
was reposed down by the creek,
where a sheep had met his maker,
for the best part of a week.
For its woolly corpse was spreading,
and the air was far from fresh,
from this rancid flyblown carcass,
with its seething greenish flesh.
It was a dogs idea of heaven,
and old Blue, he rubbed and rolled,
till he ponged just like the sheep did,
and with ecstasy extolled.
Then an idea formed within him,
as he gave a gentle tug,
and he found the carcass followed,
like a matted lumpy rug.
He would take it home for later,
it should last a week or two,
if he stored it in his kennel,
he could keep his prize from view.
So he gripped the carcass firmly,
proudly into town he went,
but his load proved fairly heavy,
and old Blues energy soon spent.
And the only shade on offer,
was the building with the bell,
and he dragged his prize towards,
with its flies and feral smell.
Then the dog and sheep both rested,
in the front porch of the church,
old Blue looked up the gangway,
at the parson on his perch.
He was revving up the faithful,
to repent to save their worth,
and said Satan was the culprit,
for all the rotten things on earth.
And he roared of fire and brimstone,
and redemption for the throng.
Up the aisle came Satans presence,
in this godforsaken pong.
And they all cried ?Hallelujah?
and they fell as one to pray.
But by now old Blue was rested,
and he hadn?t time to stay.
He proceeded up the roadway,
with the woolly corpse in tow,
with a shortcut through the nursing home,
the quickest way to go.
Where the matron, in a panic,
counted heads in mortal fright,
with a smell like that they?d surely lost,
a patient through the night.
And the members at the bowls club,
lowered all their flags half mast,
doffed their hats in silence,
for the funeral going past.
But old Blue lugged his prize on homewards,
travelling past the bowling club,
till he took a breather under,
the verandah of the pub.
There old boozing Bill was resting,
sleeping off the night before,
to wait the Sunday session,
when they opened up the door.
When the stench awoke his slumber,
which was highly on the nose,
and he thought his pickled body,
had begun to decompose.
And he missed the Sunday session,
when he ran home to his wife,
to proclaim the shock announcement,
he was off the booze for life.
Meanwhile Blue could see Gran?s gateway,
at the far end of the street,
so he started up the pavement,
with his ripe and tasty treat.
But there was movement in the backstreets,
as the town dogs sniffed in deep,
they broke chains and climbed high fences,
for a piece of Blue?s dead sheep.
And Blue felt the road vibrating,
from the stamp of canine feet,
as this pack of thirty mongrels,
came advancing up the street.
But he wasn?t into sharing,
so he sought a quick escape,
and he spied a nearby building,
with a door that stood agape.
Through this door he sought asylum,
but his presence caused a shriek,
for he?d chosen the local deli,
that was run by Nick the Greek.
And Blue shot beneath a table,
where the sheep and he could hide,
but the dog pack was relentless,
and they followed him inside.
Now the table Blue had chosen,
was a double booked mistake,
with the law enforcement sergeant,
sipping coffee on his break.
And the sergeant sat bolt upright,
with a dog between his feet,
and his eyes began to water,
from the dead decaying meat.
Then the sarge leapt up in horror,
but in his haste he slipped and fell,
falling down amongst Blue?s mutton,
with it?s all embracing smell.
And he lay somewhat bewildered,
in the gore, flat on his back,
when the mongrel pack descended,
in a frenzied dog attack.
With first thought self- preservation,
from the rows of teeth he faced,
the sarge fumbled for his pistol,
in it?s holster at his waist.
There were muffled bangs and yelping,
as random shots rang out,
and the whine of bouncing bullets,
off the brickwork all about.
As he blasted in a panic,
from beneath the blood and gore,
a front window and the drink fridge,
were both added to the score.
And the cappuccino maker,
copped a mortal wound and died,
hissing steam, it levitated,
falling frothing on it?s side.
And Nick the Greek, the owner,
grabbed a shotgun in his fright,
blasting into the confusion,
of the frantic canine fight.
At short range it wasn?t pretty,
dogs were plastered on the wall,
there was laminex in splinters,
clouds of dog hair covered all.
Then the smoke detector whistled,
with the gunsmoke in the air,
which set off the sprinkler system,
and a siren gave a blare.
And the echoes still were ringing,
when beneath the dying heap,
there emerged old Blue, still dragging,
at the remnants of his sheep.
It?s head was gone and several legs,
but it hadn?t lost it?s smell,
in the armistice that followed,
Blue decided not to dwell.
He leapt the fence at Grandma?s,
for his feet had sprouted wings,
pure adrenalin propelled him,
fleeing dogs and guns and things.
Now old Gran had influenza,
and had lost her sense of smell.
With Blues sheep in the garden,
that was probably just as well
And she looked out from her front fence,
at the town in disarray,
at the ambulance, police cars,
and the RSPCA as well.
Then the fire brigade rushed past her,
flashing lights of rosy hue,
and she hugged the old dog tightly,
he?d protect her, would old Blue,
You just stay here like a good dog.
Grandma told him with a frown
? ?cause you?ve no idea the trouble
you can get into in town?
(Hopefully entertaining also for those that don't have Aus English as 1st language
)BLUE AND THE SHEEP ?.the author, Bob Magor
WE pensioned off old Blue the dog,
when old age got him down.
We sent him for company,
to old Grandma in the town.
But while Granny was elated,
Blue still craved the great out doors,
and he would roam the town exploring,
while old granny did the chores.
So it was this Sunday morning,
Blue was fossicking about,
through the paddocks near the township,
on his normal daily scout.
When a canine gourmet odour,
overpowered his sense of smell,
though his eyesight had diminished,
his old sniffer still worked well,
and the sense of his excitement,
was reposed down by the creek,
where a sheep had met his maker,
for the best part of a week.
For its woolly corpse was spreading,
and the air was far from fresh,
from this rancid flyblown carcass,
with its seething greenish flesh.
It was a dogs idea of heaven,
and old Blue, he rubbed and rolled,
till he ponged just like the sheep did,
and with ecstasy extolled.
Then an idea formed within him,
as he gave a gentle tug,
and he found the carcass followed,
like a matted lumpy rug.
He would take it home for later,
it should last a week or two,
if he stored it in his kennel,
he could keep his prize from view.
So he gripped the carcass firmly,
proudly into town he went,
but his load proved fairly heavy,
and old Blues energy soon spent.
And the only shade on offer,
was the building with the bell,
and he dragged his prize towards,
with its flies and feral smell.
Then the dog and sheep both rested,
in the front porch of the church,
old Blue looked up the gangway,
at the parson on his perch.
He was revving up the faithful,
to repent to save their worth,
and said Satan was the culprit,
for all the rotten things on earth.
And he roared of fire and brimstone,
and redemption for the throng.
Up the aisle came Satans presence,
in this godforsaken pong.
And they all cried ?Hallelujah?
and they fell as one to pray.
But by now old Blue was rested,
and he hadn?t time to stay.
He proceeded up the roadway,
with the woolly corpse in tow,
with a shortcut through the nursing home,
the quickest way to go.
Where the matron, in a panic,
counted heads in mortal fright,
with a smell like that they?d surely lost,
a patient through the night.
And the members at the bowls club,
lowered all their flags half mast,
doffed their hats in silence,
for the funeral going past.
But old Blue lugged his prize on homewards,
travelling past the bowling club,
till he took a breather under,
the verandah of the pub.
There old boozing Bill was resting,
sleeping off the night before,
to wait the Sunday session,
when they opened up the door.
When the stench awoke his slumber,
which was highly on the nose,
and he thought his pickled body,
had begun to decompose.
And he missed the Sunday session,
when he ran home to his wife,
to proclaim the shock announcement,
he was off the booze for life.
Meanwhile Blue could see Gran?s gateway,
at the far end of the street,
so he started up the pavement,
with his ripe and tasty treat.
But there was movement in the backstreets,
as the town dogs sniffed in deep,
they broke chains and climbed high fences,
for a piece of Blue?s dead sheep.
And Blue felt the road vibrating,
from the stamp of canine feet,
as this pack of thirty mongrels,
came advancing up the street.
But he wasn?t into sharing,
so he sought a quick escape,
and he spied a nearby building,
with a door that stood agape.
Through this door he sought asylum,
but his presence caused a shriek,
for he?d chosen the local deli,
that was run by Nick the Greek.
And Blue shot beneath a table,
where the sheep and he could hide,
but the dog pack was relentless,
and they followed him inside.
Now the table Blue had chosen,
was a double booked mistake,
with the law enforcement sergeant,
sipping coffee on his break.
And the sergeant sat bolt upright,
with a dog between his feet,
and his eyes began to water,
from the dead decaying meat.
Then the sarge leapt up in horror,
but in his haste he slipped and fell,
falling down amongst Blue?s mutton,
with it?s all embracing smell.
And he lay somewhat bewildered,
in the gore, flat on his back,
when the mongrel pack descended,
in a frenzied dog attack.
With first thought self- preservation,
from the rows of teeth he faced,
the sarge fumbled for his pistol,
in it?s holster at his waist.
There were muffled bangs and yelping,
as random shots rang out,
and the whine of bouncing bullets,
off the brickwork all about.
As he blasted in a panic,
from beneath the blood and gore,
a front window and the drink fridge,
were both added to the score.
And the cappuccino maker,
copped a mortal wound and died,
hissing steam, it levitated,
falling frothing on it?s side.
And Nick the Greek, the owner,
grabbed a shotgun in his fright,
blasting into the confusion,
of the frantic canine fight.
At short range it wasn?t pretty,
dogs were plastered on the wall,
there was laminex in splinters,
clouds of dog hair covered all.
Then the smoke detector whistled,
with the gunsmoke in the air,
which set off the sprinkler system,
and a siren gave a blare.
And the echoes still were ringing,
when beneath the dying heap,
there emerged old Blue, still dragging,
at the remnants of his sheep.
It?s head was gone and several legs,
but it hadn?t lost it?s smell,
in the armistice that followed,
Blue decided not to dwell.
He leapt the fence at Grandma?s,
for his feet had sprouted wings,
pure adrenalin propelled him,
fleeing dogs and guns and things.
Now old Gran had influenza,
and had lost her sense of smell.
With Blues sheep in the garden,
that was probably just as well
And she looked out from her front fence,
at the town in disarray,
at the ambulance, police cars,
and the RSPCA as well.
Then the fire brigade rushed past her,
flashing lights of rosy hue,
and she hugged the old dog tightly,
he?d protect her, would old Blue,
You just stay here like a good dog.
Grandma told him with a frown
? ?cause you?ve no idea the trouble
you can get into in town?
chrisk
Hero member
- Location
- Brisbane, Australia
As he blasted in a panic,
from beneath the blood and gore,
a front window and the drink fridge,
were both added to the score.
And the cappuccino maker,
copped a mortal wound and died,
hissing steam, it levitated,
falling frothing on it?s side.
That wouldn't have happened with a jar of Nescafe on the counter.
from beneath the blood and gore,
a front window and the drink fridge,
were both added to the score.
And the cappuccino maker,
copped a mortal wound and died,
hissing steam, it levitated,
falling frothing on it?s side.
That wouldn't have happened with a jar of Nescafe on the counter.
Andy
Hero member
- Location
- Auckland, roughly
Talking of Bush Poetry, I liked this one from Bill Kearns from a few years ago:
https://youtu.be/ozinIE-E0wM
https://youtu.be/ozinIE-E0wM
Legs
Hero member
- Location
- Adelaide Hills
One day a man decided to retire.
He booked himself on a Caribbean cruise and proceeded to have the time of his life, that is, until the ship sank.
He soon found himself on an island with no other people, no supplies, nothing, only bananas and coconuts.
After about four months, he is lying on the beach one day when the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen rows up to the shore.
In disbelief, he asks, "Where did you come from? How did you get here?"
She replies, "I rowed over from the other side of the island where I landed when my fishing boat sank." "Amazing," he notes. "You were really lucky to have a row boat wash up with you."
"Oh, this ole thing?" explains the woman. " I made the boat out of some raw material I found on the island. The oars were whittled from gum tree branches. I wove the bottom from palm tree branches, and the sides and stern came from an Eucalyptus tree."
"But, where did you get the tools?"
"Oh, that was no problem," replied the woman. " On the south side of the island, a very unusual stratum of alluvial rock is exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in a volcanic vent I found just down island, it melted into ductile iron and I used that to make tools and used the tools to make the hardware."
The guy is stunned.
"Let's row over to my place," she says "and I'll give you a tour." So, after a short time of rowing, she soon docks the boat at a small hand built wharf. As the man looks to shore, he nearly falls off the boat. Before him is a long stone walk leading to a cabin and tree house.
While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man can only stare ahead, dumb struck. As they walk into the house, she says casually, It's not much, but I call it home.
Please sit down." "Would you like a drink?"
"No! No thank you," the man blurts out, still dazed. "I can't take another drop of coconut juice."
"Oh, it's not coconut juice," winks the woman. "I have a still. How would you like a Jack Daniels neat?" Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepts, and they sit down on her couch to talk. After they exchange their individual survival stories, the woman announces, "I'm going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There's a razor in the bathroom cabinet upstairs."
No longer questioning anything, the man goes upstairs into the bathroom. There, in the cabinet is a razor made from a piece of tortoise bone. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge are fastened on to its end inside a swivel mechanism.
"This woman is amazing," he muses. "What's next?"
When he returns, she greets him wearing nothing but a bandana around her blonde locks and some small flowers on tiny vines, each strategically positioned. She smelled faintly of coconut oil. She then beckons for him to sit down next to her.
"Tell me," she begins suggestively, slithering closer to him, "We've both been out here for many months. You must have been lonely. When was the last time you had a really good ride?"
She stares into his eyes.
He can't believe what he's hearing.
"You mean..." he swallows excitedly as tears start to form in his eyes,
"You've built a motorbike?
He booked himself on a Caribbean cruise and proceeded to have the time of his life, that is, until the ship sank.
He soon found himself on an island with no other people, no supplies, nothing, only bananas and coconuts.
After about four months, he is lying on the beach one day when the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen rows up to the shore.
In disbelief, he asks, "Where did you come from? How did you get here?"
She replies, "I rowed over from the other side of the island where I landed when my fishing boat sank." "Amazing," he notes. "You were really lucky to have a row boat wash up with you."
"Oh, this ole thing?" explains the woman. " I made the boat out of some raw material I found on the island. The oars were whittled from gum tree branches. I wove the bottom from palm tree branches, and the sides and stern came from an Eucalyptus tree."
"But, where did you get the tools?"
"Oh, that was no problem," replied the woman. " On the south side of the island, a very unusual stratum of alluvial rock is exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in a volcanic vent I found just down island, it melted into ductile iron and I used that to make tools and used the tools to make the hardware."
The guy is stunned.
"Let's row over to my place," she says "and I'll give you a tour." So, after a short time of rowing, she soon docks the boat at a small hand built wharf. As the man looks to shore, he nearly falls off the boat. Before him is a long stone walk leading to a cabin and tree house.
While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man can only stare ahead, dumb struck. As they walk into the house, she says casually, It's not much, but I call it home.
Please sit down." "Would you like a drink?"
"No! No thank you," the man blurts out, still dazed. "I can't take another drop of coconut juice."
"Oh, it's not coconut juice," winks the woman. "I have a still. How would you like a Jack Daniels neat?" Trying to hide his continued amazement, the man accepts, and they sit down on her couch to talk. After they exchange their individual survival stories, the woman announces, "I'm going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There's a razor in the bathroom cabinet upstairs."
No longer questioning anything, the man goes upstairs into the bathroom. There, in the cabinet is a razor made from a piece of tortoise bone. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge are fastened on to its end inside a swivel mechanism.
"This woman is amazing," he muses. "What's next?"
When he returns, she greets him wearing nothing but a bandana around her blonde locks and some small flowers on tiny vines, each strategically positioned. She smelled faintly of coconut oil. She then beckons for him to sit down next to her.
"Tell me," she begins suggestively, slithering closer to him, "We've both been out here for many months. You must have been lonely. When was the last time you had a really good ride?"
She stares into his eyes.
He can't believe what he's hearing.
"You mean..." he swallows excitedly as tears start to form in his eyes,
"You've built a motorbike?
Dellortoman
Hero member
- Location
- Tasmania, Australia
Went out for a ride on my Laverda this morning but I had to swerve hard to avoid hitting a kangaroo, I lost control and landed in a ditch, severely banging my head.
Dazed and confused I crawled out of the ditch to the edge of the road when a shiny new convertible pulled up with a very beautiful woman who asked, "Are you okay?
As I looked up, I noticed she was wearing a low-cut blouse with a cleavage to die for.
"I'm okay I think." I replied as I pulled myself up to the side of the car to get a closer look.
She said, "Get in and I'll take you home, so I can clean and bandage that nasty scrape on your head."
"That's nice of you," I answered, "But I don't think my wife will like me doing that!"
"Oh, come now, I'm a nurse," she insisted. "I need to see if you have any more scrapes and then treat them properly."
Well, she was really pretty and very persuasive. Being sort of shaken and weak, I agreed, but repeated, "I'm sure my wife won't like this."
We arrived at her place which was just few miles away and, after a couple of cold beers and the bandaging, I thanked her and said, "I feel a lot better, but I know my wife is going to be really upset so I'd better go now."
Don't be silly!" she said with a smile. "Stay for a while. She won't know anything. By the way, where is she?"
"My guess is that she's still in the ditch."
Dazed and confused I crawled out of the ditch to the edge of the road when a shiny new convertible pulled up with a very beautiful woman who asked, "Are you okay?
As I looked up, I noticed she was wearing a low-cut blouse with a cleavage to die for.
"I'm okay I think." I replied as I pulled myself up to the side of the car to get a closer look.
She said, "Get in and I'll take you home, so I can clean and bandage that nasty scrape on your head."
"That's nice of you," I answered, "But I don't think my wife will like me doing that!"
"Oh, come now, I'm a nurse," she insisted. "I need to see if you have any more scrapes and then treat them properly."
Well, she was really pretty and very persuasive. Being sort of shaken and weak, I agreed, but repeated, "I'm sure my wife won't like this."
We arrived at her place which was just few miles away and, after a couple of cold beers and the bandaging, I thanked her and said, "I feel a lot better, but I know my wife is going to be really upset so I'd better go now."
Don't be silly!" she said with a smile. "Stay for a while. She won't know anything. By the way, where is she?"
"My guess is that she's still in the ditch."
Yogi
Hero member
- Location
- Bellingen NSW Australia
For Vincent.. a gourmet if ever there was one...
The most eloquent resisting of arrest that you will see this year! ?What is the charge, Sir? Eating a meal? A succulent Chinese meal??
Apparently, he forgot to pay for the meal....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XebF2cgmFmU&feature=share
The most eloquent resisting of arrest that you will see this year! ?What is the charge, Sir? Eating a meal? A succulent Chinese meal??
Apparently, he forgot to pay for the meal....
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XebF2cgmFmU&feature=share
paulincayman
Hero member
- Location
- Cayman Islands
Doctor: So what's your most successful method for going to sleep?
Patient: I lay down right on the edge of the bed.........I drop off pretty soon.
Patient: I lay down right on the edge of the bed.........I drop off pretty soon.
orionengnr
New member
- Location
- DFW, TX
Okay, I made it to page 38, this entry...
True story ....... an airline pilot accidently "hot miked" ..... ie, spoke to his cojo casually but accidently hit the transmit button ...... and when he realized it he said"fuck" just before he killed the transmit. Big pause on the radio and then ATC came on and said "Who Said FUCK?". Again a big pause and then some quick thinking Air Canada pilot answered "So and So Center ..... this is Air Canada 123 .... Negative on the FUCK." After that every aircraft that could also chimed in with the "Negative on the FUCK" as by asking and using the word Fuck, ATC had cleared them to use it as a response. I got this from two Air Canada pilots ..... one who was airborne at the time but out of range ...... the story spread quickly on the company frequency.
Back when I was in USN flight training (1979) I heard the following story from an instructor:
Student and instructor were in a T-44 (Beech King Air) flying out of NAS Kingsville TX. They were well inland over flat, nondescript desert. The instructor kept the student busy doing turns and maneuvers, and eventually pulled back one power lever, and directed the student to head for the nearest available field and land.
Flustered, the student failed to dial up NAS Kingsville (or anything else) on the TACAN and point the a/c in that direction. When the instructor asked where the field was, the student unwittingly pushed the PTT switch forward instead of aft (transmitting on VHF instead of ICS), and said, "Sir, honestly I have no fucking idea where I am".
TRACON came back immediately... "Aircraft using profanity on frequency, identify yourself."
The instructor looked over at the student, placed one finger to his lips, paused a beat, then transmitted:
"He said he was fucking lost. He didn't say he was fucking stupid."
Never did find out who that instructor was, but forty years later, I'd buy him a beer any day.
True story ....... an airline pilot accidently "hot miked" ..... ie, spoke to his cojo casually but accidently hit the transmit button ...... and when he realized it he said"fuck" just before he killed the transmit. Big pause on the radio and then ATC came on and said "Who Said FUCK?". Again a big pause and then some quick thinking Air Canada pilot answered "So and So Center ..... this is Air Canada 123 .... Negative on the FUCK." After that every aircraft that could also chimed in with the "Negative on the FUCK" as by asking and using the word Fuck, ATC had cleared them to use it as a response. I got this from two Air Canada pilots ..... one who was airborne at the time but out of range ...... the story spread quickly on the company frequency.
Back when I was in USN flight training (1979) I heard the following story from an instructor:
Student and instructor were in a T-44 (Beech King Air) flying out of NAS Kingsville TX. They were well inland over flat, nondescript desert. The instructor kept the student busy doing turns and maneuvers, and eventually pulled back one power lever, and directed the student to head for the nearest available field and land.
Flustered, the student failed to dial up NAS Kingsville (or anything else) on the TACAN and point the a/c in that direction. When the instructor asked where the field was, the student unwittingly pushed the PTT switch forward instead of aft (transmitting on VHF instead of ICS), and said, "Sir, honestly I have no fucking idea where I am".
TRACON came back immediately... "Aircraft using profanity on frequency, identify yourself."
The instructor looked over at the student, placed one finger to his lips, paused a beat, then transmitted:
"He said he was fucking lost. He didn't say he was fucking stupid."
Never did find out who that instructor was, but forty years later, I'd buy him a beer any day.
Ian D
Hero member
- Location
- South Australia
Grasshopper walks into a bar and orders a drink,
Bartender "we got a drink named after you "
Grasshopper "What Kevin?"
Bartender "we got a drink named after you "
Grasshopper "What Kevin?"
Legs
Hero member
- Location
- Adelaide Hills
mcnicol
Hero member
- Location
- Safety Harbor, Florida, USA
Chris, too late, somebody posted it a couple of weeks ago.
Cosi
Hero member
- Location
- Kingscliff
Dereck... a real dick
Yogi
Hero member
- Location
- Bellingen NSW Australia