….from David in Thorpe Willoughby (UK)

The priest in a small English village loved his chickens that he kept in the coop behind the church.

One Sunday morning before mass, he went to feed the birds and discovered that the cock was missing. He knew about the cockfights in the village, so he decided to question his parishioners in church.

During mass, he asked his congregation, “Has anybody got a cock?”

All the men stood up.

“No, no, that wasn’t what I meant. Has anybody seen a cock?”

All the women stood up.

“No, no, that wasn’t what I meant either. Has anybody seen a cock that doesn’t belong to them?”

Half the women stood up!

“No, no, no, that wasn’t what I meant. What I really really mean is, has anybody seen MY cock?”

Sixteen altar boys, two priests and a goat stood up!

…from Carol in North Berwick (UK)

T’was the month after Christmas,
and all through the house,
Nothing would fit me,
not even a blouse.

The cookies I’d nibbled, the chocolate I’d taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber),

I’d remember the marvellous meals I’d prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I’d never said, “No thank you, please.”

As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt…
I said to myself, as I only can,
“You can’t spend a winter, disguised as a man!”

So, away with the last of the sour cream dip.
Get rid of the fruitcake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Till all the additional ounces have vanished.

I won’t have a cookie, not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie.
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.

I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore…
But isn’t that what January is for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet.

….from Peter in Sunny Bay (NZ)

…Fly me to the MOON,
Let me play among the stars,
Let me see what Spring is like
From Jupiter and Mars….

…from Baz in Dronfield (UK)

There are 3 good arguments that Jesus was Black:
1. He called everyone brother
2. He liked Gospel
3. He didn’t get a fair trial

But then there are 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was Jewish:
1. He went into His Father’s business
2. He lived at home until he was 33
3. He was sure his Mother was a virgin and his Mother was sure He was God

But then there are 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was Italian:
1. He talked with His hands
2. He had wine with His meals
3. He used olive oil

But then there are 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was a Californian:
1. He never cut His hair
2. He walked around barefoot all the time
3. He started a new religion

But then there are 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was an American Indian:
1. He was at peace with nature
2. He ate a lot of fish
3. He talked about the Great Spirit

But then there are 3 equally good arguments that Jesus was Irish:
1. He never got married.
2. He was always telling stories.
3. He loved green pastures.

But the most compelling evidence of all – 3 proofs that Jesus was a woman:
1. He fed a crowd at a moment’s notice when there was virtually no food
2. He kept trying to get a message across to a bunch of men who just didn’t get it
3. And even when He was dead, He had to get up because there was still work to do.

This is a twist on an old favourite

…from Baz in Dronfield (UK)

A successful rancher died and left everything to his devoted wife.

She was a very good-looking woman and determined to keep the ranch, but knew very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for a ranch hand.

Two cowboys applied for the job. One was gay and the other a drunk. She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied she decided to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house than the drunk.

He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot about ranching. For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing very well.

Then one day, the rancher’s widow said to the hired hand, ‘You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great you should go into town and kick up your heels.’

The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night.

One o’clock came, however, and he didn’t return. Two o’clock and no hired hand. Finally he returned around two-thirty, and upon entering the room, he found the rancher’s widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for him.

She quietly called him over to her.

‘Unbutton my blouse and take it off,’ she said. Trembling, he did as she directed.

‘Now take off my boots.’ He did as she asked, ever so slowly.

‘Now take off my stockings.’ He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.

‘Now take off my skirt.’ He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the firelight.

‘Now take off my bra.’ Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the floor.

Then she looked at him and said, ‘If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you’re fired.’

…from David in Thorpe Willoughby (UK)

A man, getting on in years, finds that he is unable to perform in the
bedroom. He goes to his doctor who tries a few things, but nothing seems
to work. Finally, as a last resort, the doctor refers him to an African
medicine man.

The medicine man says, ‘I can cure this.’ With that said he throws a
white powder into a flame and there is a flash with billowing blue
smoke. Then the African medicine man says, ‘This is powerful healing but
you can only use it once a year. All you have to do is say ‘123′ and it
shall rise for as long as you wish!’

The man then asks, ‘What happens when it’s over and I don’t want to
continue?’ The medicine man replies, ‘When your partner can take no more
and is completely exhausted, all she has to say is ‘1234′ and it will
then go down. But be warned, ‘It will not rise again for another whole
year.’

The old gent rushes home, anxious to try out his new powers. That night
he showers, shaves and smothers himself in aftershave. He slides into
bed, cuddles up to his wife and says ‘123′ and he feels a sudden
movement in his trouser department just as the medicine man promised.

His wife turns over and asks, ‘what did you say ‘123′ for?

Men all over the country are urging their wives and sweethearts to get this ‘chic’ procedure. The going rate now exceeds £5,000. Many men feel it is worth it.

…from Peter in Sunny Bay (NZ)

The four Goldberg brothers…

The four Goldberg brothers, Lowell, Norman, Hiram, and Max, invented and developed the first automobile air-conditioner.

On July 17, 1946, the temperature in Detroit was 97 degrees.

The four brothers walked into old man Henry Ford’s office and sweet-talked his secretary into telling him that four gentlemen were there with the most exciting innovation in the auto industry since the electric starter.

Henry was curious and invited them into his office. They refused and instead asked that he come out to the parking lot to their car.

They persuaded him to get into the car, which was about 130 degrees, turned on the air conditioner, and cooled the car off immediately.

The old man got very excited and invited them back to the office, where he offered them $3 million for the patent.

The brothers refused, saying they would settle for $2 million, but they wanted the recognition by having a label, ‘The Goldberg Air-Conditioner,’ on the dashboard of each car in which it was installed.

Now, old man Ford was more than just a little anti-Semitic, and there was no way he was going to put the Goldberg’s name on two million Fords.

They haggled back and forth for about two hours and finally agreed on $4 million and that just their first names would be shown.

And so to this day, all Ford air conditioners show Lo, Norm, Hi, and Max on the controls.

So, now you know…!

Dear All,

This is serious. Please BEWARE!

Over the last couple of months or so I have become the victim of a clever ‘Eastern European’ scam while out buying groceries. Simply dropping into ASDA in Dunbar for a bit of shopping has turned out to be quite traumatic. Don’t be naive enough to think it couldn’t happen to you or your friends….

….BECAUSE IT HAS HAPPENED TO ME!

Here’s how the scam works:

Two seriously good-looking 20-21 year-old girls come over to your car as you are packing your shopping into the boot. They both start cleaning your windscreen. Their ample breasts are almost falling out of their skimpy T-shirts. It’s impossible not to look especially with all the rain we’ve have been having.

When you thank them and offer them a tip, they’ll say ‘No’ and instead ask you for a lift to another store, in my case, Tesco in North Berwick. You agree and they get in the back seat. On the way, they start undressing.

Then, when you pull over to remonstrate, one of them climbs over into the front seat and starts crawling all over you, while the other one steals your wallet!

I had my wallet stolen on November 4th, 9th, 10th, twice on the 15th, 17th, 20th, 24th & 29th. Also December 1st, 4th, twice on the 8th, 16th, 23rd, Boxing Day, 30th, three times last Saturday and very likely again tomorrow and Sunday.

So Be Warned!

Cheers,

Andy

P.S. Morrisons in Berwick upon Tweed have wallets on sale for £2.99 each or 3 for 2.

….from Gordon (unrelated) in Dronfield (UK)

A young man named Gordon bought a donkey from an old farmer for £100.00.

The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey the next day, but when the farmer drove up he said, ‘Sorry son, but I have some bad news… the donkey is on my truck, but unfortunately he’s dead.

Gordon replied, ‘Well then, just give me my money back.’

The farmer said, ‘I can’t do that, because I’ve spent it already.

Gordon said, ‘OK then, well just unload the donkey anyway.

The farmer asked, ‘What are you going to do with him?’

Gordon answered, ‘I’m going to raffle him off.’

To which the farmer exclaimed, ‘Surely you can’t raffle off a dead
donkey!’

But Gordon, with a wicked smile on his face said, ‘Of course I can,
I just won’t bother to tell anybody that he’s dead.’

A month later the farmer met up with Gordon and asked, ‘What
happened with that dead donkey?’

Gordon said, ‘I raffled him off, sold 500 tickets at two pounds each
and made a huge, fat profit!!’

Totally amazed, the farmer asked, ‘Didn’t anyone complain that you had stolen their money because you lied about the donkey being dead?’

To which Gordon replied, ‘The only guy who found out about the donkey being dead was the raffle winner when he came to claim his prize. So I gave him his £2 raffle ticket money back plus an extra £200, which as you know is double the going rate for a donkey, so he thought I was great guy!!

Gordon grew up and eventually became the Chancellor of the Exchequer and then Prime Minister and no matter how many times he lied, or how much money he stole from the British voters, as long as he gave them back some of the stolen money, most of them, unfortunately, still thought he was a great guy.

The moral of this story is, that if you think Gordon is about to play fair and do something for the everyday people of the country for once in his miserable, lying life, think again my friend,

…..because you’ll be better off flogging a dead donkey.