War of Independence

The town’s traffic warden, ex-marine Drill Sergeant Hartman, has been on patrol again.  When I saw him yesterday, he was in discussion with Mrs. Ballvalve-Smythe, and he had a hand on her Mobility Scooter.

“‘S’cuse me ma’m but you don’t want to be leaving your buggy there now, do you?”

“If I didn’t want to leave my scooter there, I wouldn’t have left it there!”
She looked down her nose at Hartman by tilting her head back.
“Do I look like a fool to you, constable?”

Hartman realised he’d caught a fighter, but he wasn’t going to let her go, he’d faced Charlie on Hill 69, for God’s sake!
“I’m no ‘Constable’, ma’m!”

“Well, I agree you’re no oil painting.  Out of my way, young man, I need to buy cigars.”
“M’am you cannot pass until you park up your va – hear – cal in a correct and appropriate manner.”

“Constable, if you don’t get out of my way, you will regret it!”  She eyed him over the scooter in the same way that her grandfather had glared at the Zulus over the fences at Rorke’s Drift.Hartman instinctively moved his hand down to the place where his pistol once hung.
Unfortunately, Mrs Ballvalve-Smythe thought that he was stroking his groin and lashed out with her handbag.
“Stop, that this instant!  Help!  Help!  Pervert!”

Hartman caught by surprise, didn’t bother trying to duck, after all – how hard a blow could be delivered by a little old lady’s handbag?
Well, pretty hard actually, if she carries two half kilo glass jars of pickled onions in it.
The force sent Hartman reeling backwards, across the service road and into the town’s ornamental fountain. 

Two teen aged boys sitting on the fountain surround, puffed pot smoke from within their hoodies and watched the scene with idle interest as Hartmann surfaced and swam towards them.  His manic eyes peered from beneath some waterweed that dangled from the flat of his head, as if he was recreating ‘Apocalypse Now’.

“You can take the man out of the Marines, but you can’t take the Marine out of the man,” sniggered Jason to Matt.
“It’s the meeting of two great civilisations, dude.  ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ versus ‘Jarhead’.”


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Breast study

A new piece of research could spare women from pain from their bras while exercising.

Deranged scientists have been studying women and their associated breasts. Two women volunteers, one wearing a 36D bra and the other a 38DD, were instructed to walk on a treadmill at 4.3mph and then speed up to a jog of 6.2mph in front of a crowded viewing room.

“What do you scientists hope to gain from this?” asked our reporter.
“We’re not scientists mate, we’ve paid good money for these seats!” said a milkman from Swanage. “The scientist is that nerdy bloke over there.” 

 “A consequence of current bra design is that the brassiere straps bear much of the load generated by breast momentum during physical activity,” said the nerd.

“As breast mass increases, breast bounce momentum also increases, placing large loads on the straps and, in turn, excessive pressure on the wearer’s shoulders.”

“Can you actually construct a sentence without the word ‘breast’ in it?” asked our bemused journalist.
“There’s nothing wrong with a healthy interest in women’s breasts.”

“See, you just did it again.”

“You can’t, can you?”
“Breast, breast. Breast.”


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Horse trading

The Food Standards Authority has found that beef burgers sold by Tesco, Lidl, Aldi and others contain up to 29% horsemeat.

“That’s a huge surprise for us,” stated a Lidl spokesman, “we thought our burgers were 90% sawdust and newspaper.”

“We want to appear to care,” said a Tesco’s demi-god, “but we will sue anybody who suggests our ‘every little helps’ slogan is referring to the beef in our burgers.”

Later in the day further concerns were raised when burgers containing 100% horsemeat were found. The all clear was given once it became clear that the burgers were sold by a French supermarket chain under the brand name “Une bouchee de Cheval” with the marketing slogan “Get A Bit Between the Teeth”.

“Ze Engleesh, they make me laff,” sneered a passing French stereotype, “Zey eat ze pigs and za eels, but they get sniffy with ze cheval.”
Shortly afterwards he drowned in a vat of cold chicken fat whilst trying to avoid a runaway abattoir lorry. It’s along and ironic story that we will save for another news bereft day.


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Eating on the job

The ‘hero’ pilot of the Boeing 777 that crashed at Heathrow airport celebrated the safe landing with a curry, it emerged today.

Well that would explain why he crashed then, he probably caught his sleeve on one of those levers when he was reaching for the naan bread.

See, me, I’m not allowed to eat at work in case I spill something into my keyboard, annoy my colleagues and clients or, worse still, actually enjoy myself.
An occasional curry whilst I’m stacking the shelves or a chicken leg when I’m unblocking the toilets would be most welcome and add variety to an otherwise tedious day.

I bet that bloke who runs the country doesn’t get by on a cup of tea and a digestive.  You know the one, stocky, wears a suit, always on the tele, I think he’s Welsh or Scottish.  Gordon something.  Always shouting.
Ramsay – that’s it!
I bet they don’t stop Gordon bloody Ramsay eating on the job.

What would stop me wanting to eat at work would be if I had a job at McBurger or KFC (Killing Feathered Creatures).


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Low rider

A New Zealander caught riding a lawn mower while drunk will have to appear in court. Richard Gunn took to getting around town on the mower – top speed 5mph – after he lost his driving licence.

But the 52-year-old was pulled over by police in northern town of Gargaville while riding down the street and officers say he was at more than twice the legal alcohol limit for drivers.

“I thought I was safe even though I was half-cut,” said Mr. Gunn, ‘somebody must’ve grassed me up.’

Gunn is due to appear in court on charges of careless driving, driving while disqualified and driving with excess alcohol.  He was also carrying weed but the police decided that it was  purely for privet use.

‘Mr. Gunn first came to our attention when we observed him hovering around the town centre.  As he left he cut the corners at the crossroads,’ said Constable Happening, ‘he also cut a very nice circle around the bandstand before shearing off into the park and performing a topiary turn in the laurel bushes.’

The defendant’s employers stated that Gunn wouldn’t be fired for this and they hoped the court would let him off. 
“He’s always cut the mustard for us,’ said his boss, ‘we wouldn’t want to turf him out now.’

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Today’s Birthdays – 14 September

If it’s your birthday today you share it with Ivan Pavlov (1849).  He is famous for discovering The Reflex years before Duran Duran and also for being 158 years old.  That’s a good age – why isn’t that on the news instead of all that crap about Organic Food for Schoolchildren?  Apparently he discovered conditioned reflex by feeding dogs whilst ringing a bell, the dogs that didn’t come when he rang the bell were shot dead.  By the end of the first week all the dogs were responding to the bell, in fact one day an ice-cream van went by the house and the whole pack went into a frenzy of fear, tore Pavlov’s assistant to pieces and shat on the carpet.

Also today, Clayton Moore (1914) the actor who played the Lone Ranger.  Well actually, we only have his word for that.
The truth is that on his second day on the lot he accidentally shot himself in the foot whilst trying to remove his holster, belt and trousers when trying to get on the toilet in a hurry.  The next day he sent in his housekeeper, Greg, who donned the mask and managed to put in a better performance than Clayton had the previous day.  Obviously, Clayton took the $1,000 a day from the studio and paid Greg $500.  It didn’t take Greg long to get the same idea and he found himself relaxing by the pool whilst his brother-in-law, Ian, was wearing the mask. 

This went well for some years, a whole string of franchised Lone Rangers.  You may be able to spot the difference between them when watching the show, especially episode 23 when Hi Hung Hat, Greg’s laundry boy had his five minutes of fame.  The whole thing was blown wide open however, when the Studio had a 100th episode party and all 43 of the Lone Rangers turned up. 
‘Lone Rangers, my arse,’ said the Studio Boss,’more like Gregarious Conservatives’. How ironic.

Don’t blame me – if you were born two days ago you would have had Barry White and Maurice Chevalier.

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