There are days when my sense of humour takes unauthorised leave of absence.
Today is one of those days!
Normally I have a stern yet pleasant and personable demeanour. My childish sense of humour is my armour, as it were, which a) prevents my stern side from making me appear too grumpy and b) prevents me from falling into a state of despair caused by ... well, everything, I suppose.
All those that have experienced my humour, or attempts thereof, tend to agree that I seem to be someone suffering from advanced form of amateur senility.
I admit that I have been known to burst into laughter at the merest hint that someone is about to collide with a glass door and I have also been known to collapse in a fit of giggles when someone takes a tumble.
But I can't help it!
Schadenfreude happens to be one of my best friends!
I have been known to suffer sudden attacks of Spoonerism's which I then spray liberally, like a Capone-era gangster with a Tommy-gun, at anyone close enough to fall prey and delight in their responses. It's somewhat less fun when the jiggled sentences pass over their heads unheeded and they respond without any reaction.
Today, however, I feel somewhat deflated; lacking the energy needed to even raise a smile.
The only explanation for my humour failure ... the only one that springs to mind, anyway ... is that today, after just over a week's holiday, I had to return to work!
Don't fret on my behalf though. I'm sure all will be well again tomorrow.
If it isn't then I shall pretend!
I don't want do bring anyone else down, now do I?
Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label humour. Show all posts
Thursday, 28 March 2013
Thursday, 17 May 2012
Sunday, 13 May 2012
Friday, 2 March 2012
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Symdaddy Humour
Take the time to visit Symdaddy Humour, a collection of photographs supplied by some very understanding dog owners that I have added captions to.
I have 120 + pictures (and counting) so I have decided to share them with everyone on a regular basis. I will post one, possibly two, each day (hopefully) for your enjoyment.
Feel free to leave a comment or alternative caption.
Friday, 17 February 2012
Tuesday, 13 December 2011
Pismronunciation
The 'monologue' below was written, and I believe also performed by one of my comic heroes, the late, great Ronnie Barker.
I hope you like it.
"I'm always looing it, and it makes one feel umbumftorcacle, especially when one is going about one's diddly tasks. Slopping at the Sloopermarket, for instance. Only last wonk, I approached the chuckout point, and I shooed the ghoul behind the crash desk the contents of my trilly, and she said 'All right, granddad, shout 'em out.' Well, of course, that's fine for the ordinary man in the stoat who has no dribble with his wolds. For someone like myself, it's worse than a kick in the jackstrop.
"Sometimes, you get stuck on one letter, such as wubbleyou. And I said, 'Well, I've got a tin of woup, a woucumber, two packets of wheese and a walliflower'. She tried to make fun of me and said, 'That will be woo pounds, wifty-wee pence.' So I just said 'Wobblers!' and walked out.
"So you see how dickyfelt it is. But help is at hand. A new society has been formed by our mumblers to help each other in times of excream ices. It is balled Pismronouncers Unanimous, and anyone can ball them up on the smellyphone any time of the day or note, twenty-four flowers a spray, seven stays a creek, and they will come 'round and get drunk with you.
"For foreigners, there will be inperpetwitters, who will all speak many sandwiches, such as Swedish, Turkish, Burkish, Jewish, Gibberish and Rubbish. Membranes will be able to attend tight stool, for heaving classes, to learn how to grope with the many complinkities of the daily loaf.
"Which brings me to the drain reason for squeaking to you tonight. The society's first function as a body was a grand garden freight, and we hope for many more bodily functions in the future. The garden plate was held in the grounds of Blennham Paleyass, Woodstick, and the guest of horror was the great American pip singer, Manny Barrellow. The fete was opened by the bleeder of the opposition, Mister Dale Pinnock ... Pillock, who gave us a few well-frozen worms in praise of the society's jerk. He said that 'In the creeks and stunts that lie ahead, we must do out nut roast to ensure that it sucks weeds.' "And everyone visited the various stores and abrusements, the rudeabouts, thing boats and the dodgers, and of course, all the old favorites such as Srty your Length, guessing the weight of the cook and tinning the pale on the wonky. The occasion was great fun, and I think it can safely be said that all the men present and thoroughly good women were had all the time.
"So, please join out society. Write to me, Doctor Small Pith, The Spanner, Poke Moses, and I will send you some brieflets to browse through and a brass badge to wear in your loophole."
Friday, 18 November 2011
Dog Day Afternoon!
Dog's.
Yes, dog's again. What? Have I not mentioned that I have three dog's?
Oh, come on! I must've done.
Look! I did, a'right!!!
Anyway, whether I have or haven't is irrelevant, because I have ... got three dog's.
Oh bum! Ya see? All that prevaricating (you, not me) has made me forget my subject for today.
It doesn't matter. I'll tell you a joke instead.
An old was taking her dead cat to the pet cemetery.
As she boarded the bus, she whispered to the driver "I have a dead pussy".
The driver pointed to the woman in the seat behind him and said, "Sit with my wife. You two have a lot in common".
The driver pointed to the woman in the seat behind him and said, "Sit with my wife. You two have a lot in common".
Saturday, 16 July 2011
You've Got To Laugh
My neighbour knocked on my door at 2:30am this morning, can you believe that? 2:30am?!
Luckily for him I was still up playing my Bagpipes.
The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a vacuum cleaner. F*ck me, talk about Dyson with death.
Did you hear about the fat alcoholic transvestite? All he wanted to do was eat, drink and be Mary.
Spent £40 on eBay last week for a p*nis enlarger.Just opened it and some bastard's sent me a magnifying glass!
I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I would like to come back as a cow. I said your obviously not f--k--g listening.
Doctors have just identified a food that can cause grief and suffering years after it's been eaten. It's called a wedding cake.
The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes back.
Hi mate I don't want you to panic but I'm texting you from the casualty. Turns out the new Dyson Ball cleaner isn't what I thought it was.
Luckily for him I was still up playing my Bagpipes.
The Grim Reaper came for me last night, and I beat him off with a vacuum cleaner. F*ck me, talk about Dyson with death.
Did you hear about the fat alcoholic transvestite? All he wanted to do was eat, drink and be Mary.
Spent £40 on eBay last week for a p*nis enlarger.Just opened it and some bastard's sent me a magnifying glass!
I woke up last night to find the ghost of Gloria Gaynor standing at the foot of my bed. At first I was afraid.......then I was petrified.
I was explaining to my wife last night that when you die you get reincarnated but must come back as a different creature. She said I would like to come back as a cow. I said your obviously not f--k--g listening.
Doctors have just identified a food that can cause grief and suffering years after it's been eaten. It's called a wedding cake.
The wife has been missing a week now. Police said to prepare for the worst. So I have been to the charity shop to get all her clothes back.
Hi mate I don't want you to panic but I'm texting you from the casualty. Turns out the new Dyson Ball cleaner isn't what I thought it was.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Why The Amnesiacs Anonymous Hotline Failed
The Amnesiacs Anonymous telephone rang.
"Hello, this is ... erm ... tip of my tongue .... what-ya-call-it ... "
{rustling of paper}
"Amnesiacs Anonymous?"
"Yes ... the Forgetty People thing. My name is ... "
{rending and tearing of material}
" ... Medium?"
"Hmmm?"
"Size 48?"
"I don't th..."
"Cotton?"
"Quite possibly"
"Well, something like that anyway. How can I er ... thingy ... er, you?"
"I have a problem with my ... my ... "
{mumbled voices away from phone}
" ... mammary!"
{mummblemumblemuble}
"Memory! Yeah, right. Memory!"
"Ri-i-i-ight? So why're you calling me?"
"Hello, this is ... erm ... tip of my tongue .... what-ya-call-it ... "
{rustling of paper}
"Amnesiacs Anonymous?"
"Yes ... the Forgetty People thing. My name is ... "
{rending and tearing of material}
" ... Medium?"
"Hmmm?"
"Size 48?"
"I don't th..."
"Cotton?"
"Quite possibly"
"Well, something like that anyway. How can I er ... thingy ... er, you?"
"I have a problem with my ... my ... "
{mumbled voices away from phone}
" ... mammary!"
{mummblemumblemuble}
"Memory! Yeah, right. Memory!"
"Ri-i-i-ight? So why're you calling me?"
Thursday, 27 January 2011
Ambitious Author Seeks Plot
I once harboured thoughts about writing a book.
Don't laugh, I mean it!
As a younger man (I'm not really as old as you might think I am), I sat down many times in front of my PC with only one goal ... to write a book!
Not just any book!
It was meant to be a great book that would sell millions of copies and one day appear as a Hollywood blockbuster or a mini-series on TV.
I still have aspirations in that direction but, unfortunately, I am now of an age whereby I recognise my limitations and I have now come to terms with the fact that my ambitions far outweigh my talents.
Oh, yes! I can rattle off a few lines now and again, sometimes even managing to inject a modicum of humour into them, for my blog ... but a real book?
I know my boundaries! I've crashed into them often enough.
I suppose we (bloggers) are all, in some way, frustrated, wannabe authors ... maybe that is why we blog! Maybe we are, in a sense, all living out our dreams on a small scale by being 'after work' bloggers!
Who knows?
I believe that I mentioned this once before ... correct me if I'm wrong ... but there is certain thrill to having people read your words; laughing at your humour, crying at your pain, sharing your disgust or sympathising with your woes.
Even if you start writing your blog, as I did, for yourself as a form of expression or release, you still get that tingle when someone has left a comment about your article, when your visitor counter starts to go higher and higher and when the number of hits your blog has received reaching for the heavens.
That is how blog-junkies are born!
Oh! I think I've just admitted to an addiction!
Another one!
Did I ever mention that I lurrrrrrrv chocolate?
Anyway, I wouldn't like to leave you feeling deprived of a good giggle, so ......
Question: What's the difference between a golf ball and a G spot?
Answer: Men will actually spend time looking for a golf ball.
Don't laugh, I mean it!
As a younger man (I'm not really as old as you might think I am), I sat down many times in front of my PC with only one goal ... to write a book!
Not just any book!
It was meant to be a great book that would sell millions of copies and one day appear as a Hollywood blockbuster or a mini-series on TV.
I still have aspirations in that direction but, unfortunately, I am now of an age whereby I recognise my limitations and I have now come to terms with the fact that my ambitions far outweigh my talents.
Oh, yes! I can rattle off a few lines now and again, sometimes even managing to inject a modicum of humour into them, for my blog ... but a real book?
I know my boundaries! I've crashed into them often enough.
I suppose we (bloggers) are all, in some way, frustrated, wannabe authors ... maybe that is why we blog! Maybe we are, in a sense, all living out our dreams on a small scale by being 'after work' bloggers!
Who knows?
I believe that I mentioned this once before ... correct me if I'm wrong ... but there is certain thrill to having people read your words; laughing at your humour, crying at your pain, sharing your disgust or sympathising with your woes.
Even if you start writing your blog, as I did, for yourself as a form of expression or release, you still get that tingle when someone has left a comment about your article, when your visitor counter starts to go higher and higher and when the number of hits your blog has received reaching for the heavens.
That is how blog-junkies are born!
Oh! I think I've just admitted to an addiction!
Another one!
Did I ever mention that I lurrrrrrrv chocolate?
Anyway, I wouldn't like to leave you feeling deprived of a good giggle, so ......
Question: What's the difference between a golf ball and a G spot?
Answer: Men will actually spend time looking for a golf ball.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
Just A Little Space Filler Until I Have More Time
If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence of your attempt.
When all else fails, read the directions.
He who laughs last probably doesn't understand the joke.
Never hit a guy with glasses. Always use your fists.
Happiness can't buy money.
True friends always stab you in the chest.
There is more to life than increasing its speed.
A coward is a hero with a wife, kids and a mortgage.
Teamwork is essential, it gives them someone else to blame.
Conscience: What hurts when everything else feels so good.
Help stamp out, eliminate and abolish redundancy!
You're schizophrenic? Gee, that makes four of us.
Why is the word 'Abbreviation' so long?
Error. Keyboard not found. Press any key to continue...
A day without sunshine is like ... night.
Floggings will continue until morale improves.
It's not an optical illusion, it just looks like one.
An elephant is a mouse built to government specifications.
What if there were no hypothetical situations?
Dyslexics of the world untie!
Honesty is the best policy. But insanity is a better defence.
I never repeat myself! I've told you before!.
Forgive your enemies, but remember their names.
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