By Special Request

[StreetCowboy]

So, the Master of Quick Wit and Ready Repartee, he had an identical twin brother. And one night, the identical twin brother of the Master of Quick Wit and Ready Repartee went to the circus, where he sat in the front row. A clown approached him, taking him for an unsuspecting member of the audience, which, indeed, he was. "HELLOO, MY FRIEND. ARE YOU THE FRONT END OF AN ASS?"

"no"

"HA HA! SO IF YOU ARE NOT THE BACK END OF AN ASS, ARE YOU THE BACK END OF AN ASS"

"no"

"HA HA! SO IF YOU ARE NOT THE FRONT END OF AN ASS, AND YOU ARE NOT THE BACK END OF AN ASS, THEN YOU MUST BE NO END OF AN ASS" and the crowd all laughed.

"hmmphhllhmphll My brother would know what to say, he wouldn't stand for that..."

And he recounted his tale of woe to his brother that evening.

"Dinnaeyoowurry,son. Ah'llsorthimoot" and he went to the circus the following night and sat in the very same seat in the very same front row,

"Uh-oh, we've got a right glutton for punishment here", and he went to the Master of Quick Wit and Ready Repartee, who was outwardly indistinguishable from the identical twin of the Master of Quick Wit and Ready Repartee:

"HELLOO, MY FRIEND. ARE YOU THE FRONT END OF AN ASS?"

"no"

"HA HA! SO IF YOU ARE NOT THE BACK END OF AN ASS, ARE YOU THE BACK END OF AN ASS"

"no"

"HA HA! SO IF YOU ARE NOT THE FRONT END OF AN ASS, AND YOU ARE NOT THE BACK END OF AN ASS, THEN YOU MUST BE NO END OF AN ASS"

And the Master of Quick Wit and Ready Repartee replied

"<deleted> off, ye Red-Nosed Bastart"

[StreetCowboy]

I thought I'd posted this before, but maybe not....

So I'm on the train up to Perth, going over the Forth Bridge, and the clippie came round-

"Tickets please"

"There you go, boss"

"This is a platform ticket. Look, it says "1d. Not for travel" You can;t travel on this. I'm going to have to charge you the Single Fare from Waverley"

"Ah've got a effin' ticket, and Ah'm goan' tae effin'travel"

"If you're not willing to pay the penalty fare, I shall have to ask you to alight immediately" and the clippie went to put the fellow's suitcase out the window over the bridge.

"CRIVVENS, MAN! First ye try and rob me, and then ye try and droon ma wee boy!"

[StreetCowboy]

"Dad, dad.... can I 'ave a new bike?"

"Dunno Son. Can your willie touch yer arse'ole?"

"No, but it's quite long..."

"Dad, dad.... can I 'ave a new bike?"

"Dunno Son. Can your willie touch yer arse'ole?"

"No, but I;ve been tieing weight to it and it nearly can,,,"

"Dad, dad.... can I 'ave a new bike?"

"Dunno Son. Can your willie touch yer arse'ole?"

"Yes, dad!"

"Then away and bugger yersel'"

:

[StreetCowboy]

An Irishman walked into a flag shop:

"To celebrate the birth of the Royal Baby, I'd like to buy a Union Jack. I'd like a green one."

"Sorry, sir, we don't sell green union jacks"

"right then, I'll have a yellow one"

"Sorry, sir, we don't sell yellow union jacks"

"Not to worry. Purple. Orange. Mauve. Gold. Tartan..."

"Sorry, sir, we only have red white and blue union jacks'

"Fine, and I'll have a red one then, so I will"

[Dancealot]

A foreign gentleman approached two British police officers...

"Bonjour, messieurs, Ou est la gare"

"Sorry Fritz, we don't speak German"

...

Well, I can't be bothered telling the whole joke, so I'll just cut to the punchline

Eventually, he gives up in frustration and goes away grumbling "idiotes; kartopflkopfen..."

"Maybe we should learn a foreign language"

"I don't see the point. That bloke spoke five, and it never did him any good"

I love this classic, silly as it is. .Still use it sometimes.

"Ou-est la guerre?"

That was the one.

[StreetCowboy]

Two young doctors were watching an elderly gentleman make his way across the hospital courtyard, bandy-legged.

"I think it's gout, from a life of alcoholic excess" said one.

"I think it's rickets, from poor nutrition and a lack of fresh fruit"

"Well it's not deafness, for a start." The old man said.

"YOU - you thought it was gout. Well you were wrong.

"You - you thought it was rickets. Well you were wrong.

"I thought it was gas. And I was wrong too"

[StreetCowboy]

So I was drinking with theBlether, and I was getting a bit fed up with people - apparent strangers - coming over "Haway there, Blether. I've not seen you for a long time"

"Sorry, pal, I don't get to Nairobi / Fiji / Bearsden (as appropriate) as often as I'd like"

"Blether," says I, "it seems like you no just about everybody"

"No 'just about' about it. I know them all - showbusiness, royalty"

"Aye, well, I know from Pittoddrie you're on first names with the Princess Royal, Princess Anne, but you cannae know everybody"

"Who do you think is a stranger to me, then"

"Well, preside... King.. .the Pope; there's nae way you ken Argentinian Frankie"

"'Course I do, Cowboy. me him and Maradonna go bevvin' a' the time when I'm in Buenos Aires..."

So I called his bluff, and off we went to St Peter's Square.

...

So this big Swiss Guardsman stopped us with his pike

"Haway, thair, Michel, we're here to see Big Frankie"

"Sure, and you can go up, Blether, but your pal here will have to wait in the Square"

And right enough, fifteen minutes later, out comes the Pope with his arm around theBlether, and a wee fella next to me says
"Who's that in the white, with theBlether?"

[theblether]

Sounds about right

[StreetCowboy]

A fellow went to the doctor's.

"Doctor, doctor, I want to live for ever"

"Well, you'll need to stop smoking, stop drinking, stop eating rich or spicey food, and refrain from sex entirely"

"And I'll live for ever?"

"No, but it'll feel like it"

[StreetCowboy]

My dear old Grandmother told me this tale, which was told to her by an older acquaintance who had served in the hospitals during the Great War.

The ward was being visited by Lady Rosalind, Duchess of Hamilton, to cheer up the wounded troops.

"... and what ailment has invalided you out from the trenches, soldier?"

"Piles, ma'am"

"Oh, and what is the treatment for that?"
"Wire brush and dettol, ma'am"

"And how do you keep your spirits up, soldier?"

"Hope and prayer, ma'am"

"And for what do you hope and pray, young man?"

"I hope to get back to the trenches, and pray for victory over the Hun"

and she moved on down the ward.

"...and you, young man, what is your affliction?

"Gonnorrhea, m'lady."

"Oh, and what is the treatment for that?"
"Wire brush and dettol, ma'am"

"And how do you keep your spirits up, soldier?"

"Hope and prayer, ma'am"

"And for what do you hope and pray, young man?"

"I hope to get back to the trenches, and pray for victory over the Hun"

Then she reached the final bed in the ward.

"And what ails you, Private?"

"Laryngitis, Your Grace"

"Oh, and what is the treatment for that?"

"Wire brush and dettol, ma'am"

"And how do you keep your spirits up, soldier?"

"Hope and prayer, ma'am"

"And for what do you hope and pray, young man?"

"I hope to wake up early and pray to get the wire brush and dettol before those other clarty bastarts, Your Grace"

[Dancealot]

The anti-climax hurts.

[StreetCowboy]

The anti-climax hurts.

I know the cure for that.

Wire brush and dettol.

Hope&prayer, yemean, Cowboy

[Dancealot]

The anti-climax hurts.

I know the cure for that.

Wire brush and dettol.

Hope&prayer, yemean, Cowboy

, Ayemean stimerol.

[StreetCowboy]

"Daddy, daddy, why's Granny running all over the lawn?"

"Shut up and gimme another bullet, son"

[krisb]

Sent from my LG-E612 using Thaivisa Connect Thailand mobile app

[krisb]

What...that's it? No more jokes!

[StreetCowboy]

I grew up in a farming community, and since his earliest years, one of my acquaintances was obsessed with farm machinery ...

John Deere this, Massey Ferguson that, Direct Power Take-Off, balers, threshers. What he didn't know about tractors wasn't worth knowing. For most of us, what he knew about tractors wasn't worth knowing. Anyway, I ran into him at the Agricultural Show, and he was off...

"Ow <deleted>, we're not interested..."

"Well what are you at the Agricultural Show for then?"

"Beer and birds'" I said, pointing to a young lady in jodhpurs.

Anyway, we settled down in the beer tent to illuminate him in the error of his ways, and he was coming round to a more rational and less farm-machinery-centric point of view, when a carelessly discarded cigar set the tent alight. There was panic in the ranks, I can tell you. But he stood up manfully, and with one enormous draw of his lungs, sucked in all the smoke, and then exhaled in the safety of the haggis-hurling field.

"How can a bloke with an interest in nothing but tractors inhale so much smoke?" I asked.

"Aye, well, that was then, this is now. I'm an ex-tractor fan now."

[StreetCowboy]

Two Southampton ladies were conversing:

"My husband works for P&O"

"Mine works for Cunard"

So does mine. Where does yours work?"

[StreetCowboy]

This cropped up in a private conversation, and I thought I would share it with you all, as I don't think it is fair that my friend suffers in solitude

Andy Gorham, wicket keeper for Scotland, who for a day job was goal keeper for Hibernian FC (and the national side), was walking past a burning building

"My baby, my baby" a lady screamed, "what will happen to my baby"

"Throw him down, missus, I'll catch him"

"No, it's too dangerous"

"It/s me, missus, Andy Gorham, safest hands in Scotland"

So she dropped the baby down, and Andy caught him safely, bounced him twice on the ground and kicked him 60 metres down the park.

[StreetCowboy]

Two drunks were stumbling down Pattaya Beach Road, wearing sunglasses a welder would've been proud of...

"Iszat the sun or the moon up there?"

"Dunno mate, I'm not from round these parts"

[StreetCowboy]

I thought I posted this elsewhere, but it seems to have disappeared.
Maybe I should Lodge a complaint. Anyway, this is probably a more suitable place for it

Many years back, Roy Aitken went South to play for Newcastle.

At his first match, the manager said, "Listen, Roy, I'm not sure about your match fitness, so I'm going to pull you off at half time"
"That's great, boss. At Celtic all we got was an orange"

[StreetCowboy]

Following a shipwreck, an Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman found themselves sadly stranded on a deserted island.  After some weeks of living off coconuts and shellfish, a bottle washed up on the shore.  After a quick uncorking, and a bit of rubbing with a tattered sleeve, out popped a genie, who would grant them three wishes - one each.

 

"Gie's a drink.  Ah wish ah wiz bevvin' wi' mah mates in the GRassmarket" said the Scotsman before the others had drawn breath, and he vanished with a puff of smoke, and the barely audible sound of chinking glasses, and coarsely raised voices, and a possible whiff of stale beer and old cigarettes.

"A noble sentiment.  Of course one wishes one was at home, in the bosom, of the family, or surrounded with one's nearest and dearest chums.  I wish that I was back in England's green and pleasant land", and he was gone, with the sound of church bells ringing, and a scarcely discernible scent of new-mown meadows.

 

"Sure, and its lonely round here all on your ownsome", said the Irishman.  "I wish I had my two friends back"