Category Archives: Humour

Thanks for the memory

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Yes. Thanks for the memory.
I’ll start this with a quip made of my old blog RFFT in 2016

An elderly couple had dinner at another couple’s house, and after eating, the wives left the table and went into the kitchen.
The two gentlemen were talking, and one said, ‘Last night we went out to a new restaurant and it was really great. I would recommend it very highly.’
The other man said, ‘What is the name of the restaurant?’
The first man thought and thought, then finally said, ‘What’s the name of that flower you give to someone you love? You know, the one that’s red and has thorns.’
‘Do you mean a rose?’
‘Yes, that’s the one,’ replied the man. He then turned towards the kitchen and yelled, ‘Rose, what’s the name of that restaurant we went to last night?’

Yes, I agree, the above is somewhat extreme, and in my view demonstrates not simply impaired memory, but preoccupation with something else. IOW He isn’t ‘in the room’.

As someone in their seventy-eighth year. It is obvious to me, that short-term memory problems are a clear and present danger for me. The results are usually not too bad if I’m at home, but are accompanied with foul-mouthed expletives leveled out loud at myself.
I’ve always been strict about placement of items I need, not simply everyday objects but tools, electronic components, and last but not least, code and other scribbling held on digital media.
The ‘help’ from individuals who apparently can’t remember where they took something from, and insist on finding a new ‘home’ for it is deeply unwelcome.
This is a feature I referred to above, one of pre-occupation. Their attention is on problems of their own, and lead to lack of focus on what they are currently doing.

My ‘outages’ are generally simply irritating, thankfully. The classic of writing out a shopping list, only to leave it on the table, are apparently not just a trait of mine, but other folks.
I get to the mart, and realize, I haven’t the list, but inevitably remember what I need in spite of this. Those occasions when I don’t write a list, can frequently end up forgetting something I need, despite the item count being relatively small.

Long term memories can be both a blessing, and a curse. I remember the squalor and discomfort of my early life in post-war Gateshead. But even then, there was beauty. Ringtons Tea merchants had a small fleet of hansom cabs, and some truly beautiful horses. I would walk to school early, just to stand and watch them leave in the morning. Mark Tony, who had an ice cream parlour on the High Street, also had a cart pulled by a lovely big grey, and I would stand and talk to it whilst eating my penny cornet.

Most of the pain came from people that should have known better. Teachers, and parents, and of course, the school bullies. Interestingly, I realize now, just how bad it really was. The truth is simple, everyone was suffering much of the same.

Well, I’ve mentioned now, and the dim distant past, what of the middle? To say too much here, would hurt too many folk. The memories are strong, and looking back, I wouldn’t be a subject for sanctification. Many mistakes were made, and not just by me. There is the gift of lovely children, and the apparent rancor of ex-partners and others.

So I have to accept that, despite circumstances, I can still remember the very good and the bad. In most respects, that hasn’t changed, nor would I want it to. I can’t ‘erase’ my mistakes, preferring to learn from them.

Now a bit of ‘old’ fun from someone really discombobulated.

‘I went to the pictures tomorrow
I took a front seat at the back
A lady she gave me some chocolates
I ate them. and gave her them back.
I fell from the pit to the gallery
And broke a front bone in my back
I called for a taxi, and walked it
And that’s how I never got back.’

Ernie – Wasn’t he the one that drove the fastest milk-cart in the West?

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Open this in Youtube
Or this one

Wonderful stuff! Benny Hill, gone, but certainly not forgotten.

You could hear the hoof beats pound as they raced across the ground,
And the clatter of the wheels as they spun ’round and ’round.
And he galloped into market street, his badge upon his chest,
His name was Ernie, and he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

Now Ernie loved a widow, a lady known as Sue,
She lived all alone in Liddley Lane at number 22.
They said she was too good for him, she was haughty, proud and chic,
But Ernie got his cocoa there three times every week.

They called him Ernie, (Ernieeeeeeeeeee)
And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

She said she’d like to bathe in milk, he said “All right, sweetheart”,
And when he’d finished work one night he loaded up his cart.
He said, “D’you want it pasturize? ‘Cos pasturize is best”,
She says, “Ernie, I’ll be happy if it comes up to me chest.”

That tickled old Ernie, (Ernieeeeeeeeeee)
And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

Now Ernie had a rival, an evil-looking man,
Called Two-Ton Ted from Teddington and he drove the baker’s van.
He tempted her with his treacle tarts and his tasty wholemeal bread,
And when she seen the size of his hot meat pies it very near turned her head.

She nearly swooned at his macaroon and he said, “If you treat me right,
You’ll have hot rolls every morning, and crumpets every night.”
He knew once she sampled his layer cake he’d have his wicked way,
And all Ernie had to offer was a pint of milk a day.

Poor Ernie, (Ernieeeeeeeeeee)
And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

One lunch time Ted saw Ernie’s horse and cart outside her door,
It drove him mad to find it was still there at half past four.
And as he leapt down from his van hot blood through his veins did course,
And he went across to Ernie’s cart and didn’t half kick his ‘orse.

Whose name was Trigger, (Triggerrrrrrrr)
And he pulled the fastest milk cart in the west.

Now Ernie rushed out into the street, his gold top in his hand,
He said, “If you wanna marry Susie you’ll fight for her like a man.”
“Oh why don’t we play cards for her?” he sneeringly replied,
“And just to make it interesting, we’ll have a shilling on the side.”

Now Ernie dragged him from his van and beneath the blazing sun,
They stood there face to face, and Ted went for his bun.
But Ernie was too quick, things didn’t go the way Ted planned,
And a strawberry-flavoured yogurt sent it spinning from his hand.

Now Susie ran between them and tried to keep them apart,
And Ernie, he pushed her aside and a rock cake caught him underneath his heart.
And he looked up in pained surprise and the concrete hardened crust,
Of a stale pork pie, caught him in the eye, and Ernie bit the dust.

Poor Ernie, (Ernieeeeeeeeeee)
And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

Ernie was only 52, he didn’t wanna die,
And now he’s gone to make deliveries in that milk round in the sky.
Where the customers are angels, and ferocious dogs are banned,
And the milkman’s life is full of fun in that fairy, dairy land.

But a woman’s needs are manifold and soon she married Ted,
But strange things happened on their wedding night as they lay in their bed.
Was that the trees a-rustling? Or the hinges of the gate?
Or Ernie’s ghastly gold tops a-rattling in their crate?

They won’t forget Ernie, (Ernieeeeeeeeee)
And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west.

Song written by Benny Hill

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My little stick of Blackpool Rock

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Admission. It was after reading the ineffable rubbish regarding Fatima, that I was reminded of other samples of the boundless crap touted by so-called ‘charities’, particularly those of a religious bent. Some considerable time ago, I read of the Church of America ‘curing’ gay men of their ‘pernicious behaviour’ and apparently making them straight. I presented my problem by email, and was a little surprised at the very negative response, I can’t think why.
So from back in 2009, first published on ‘Serial Failures’ is my account:

I’ve just come back after a visit to Blackpool and my partner was very angry with me when I presented her with a stick of Whitley Bay Rock. Let me explain, I promised her I’d bring her back a stick of Blackpool Rock and I forgot. Rather than ‘fess up, I called in to ‘The Candyman’ sweet shop on the way home and bought a stick of local rock (which has ‘Whitley Bay’ written all the way through it) thinking she wouldn’t notice, but of course she did. She stormed off in one of her tempers and her last words were – ‘keep your promise, and get me a stick of Blackpool Rock, or I’ll never speak to you again!’

I hunted around on the Internet and came across a Church in America that says that anything is possible if you try hard enough, so I emailed them regarding changing the lettering in the middle of my rock.

I was surprised and a little hurt when the Pastor replied to my email reprimanding me for my frivolous and disrespectful request.

Now I would have thought that if this Church can convert Gay men into Heterosexuals, it should be a cinch to sort out my Rock problem.

Whaddya Fink?

Silly Short Stories

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Fannie Green

A man enters a confessional and says to the Irish Priest: “Father, it’s been one
month since my last confession. I’ve had sex with Fannie Green every week for
the last month”.
The priest tells the sinner: “You are forgiven. Go out and say three Hail Mary’s.”
Soon, another man enters the confessional. “Father, it has been two months
since my last confession. I have had sex with Fannie Green twice a week for the
last two months.”
This time the priest asks: “Who is this Fannie Green?”
“A new woman in the neighborhood” the sinner replies.
“Very well,” says the priest. “Go and say ten Hail Mary’s”.
The next morning in church, the priest is preparing to deliver his sermon when
a gorgeous, tall woman enters the church. All the men’s eyes fall upon her as
she slowly sashays up the aisle and sits down in front of the altar. Her dress is
green and very short, with matching shiny emerald green shoes. The priest and
altar boy gasp as the woman sits down with her legs slightly spread apart,
Sharon Stone-style.
The priest turns to the altar boy and in a hushed tone asks:
“Is that Fannie Green?
The altar boy replies: “No Father, I think its just the reflection off her shoes”.

The Bear and the Atheist

An atheist was taking a walk through the woods. “What majestic trees! What
powerful rivers! What beautiful animals!” he said to himself. As he continued
walking alongside the river he heard a rustling in the bushes Turning to look, he
saw a 7 foot grizzly charging towards him. He ran as fast as he could up the
path. Looking over his shoulder he saw that the bear was closing in on him. His
heart was pumping frantically and he tried to run even faster. He tripped and
fell on the ground. He rolled over to pick himself up but saw the bear raising his
paw to take a swipe at him. At that instant the atheist cried out:
“Oh my God!”
Time stopped.
The bear froze.
The forest was silent. It was then that a bright light shone upon the man and a
voice came out of the sky saying: “You deny my existence for all of these years,
told others I didn’t exist and even credit creation to a cosmic accident. Do you
expect me to help you out of this predicament? Am I to count you as a
believer?”
The atheist looked directly into the light and said: “It would be hypocritical of
me to suddenly ask you to treat me as a Christian now, but perhaps – could you
make the bear a Christian?”
“Very well,” said the voice.
The light went out, and the sounds of the forest resumed.
And then the bear lowered his paw, bowed his head and spoke:
“For which we are about to receive, may The Lord make us truly thankful.”

Doctor Dave

Doctor Dave had sex with one of his patients and felt guilty all day long.
No matter how much he tried to forget about it, he couldn’t. The guilt and
sense of betrayal was overwhelming. But every once in a while he’d hear an
internal, reassuring voice that said: “Dave, don’t worry about it. You aren’t the
first doctor to sleep with one of their patients and you won’t be the last. And
you’re single, just let it go.”
But invariably another voice would bring him back to reality, whispering:
“Dave, you’re a vet.”

Alien Encounter

Two aliens landed in the New Mexico desert near a petrol station that had been
closed for the night. They approached one of the pumps and the younger of the
two Aliens addressed it: “Greetings, Earthling.We come in peace. Take us to
your leader.”
The pump didn’t respond (of course). The younger alien started to get mad at
the lack of response and the older one said: “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
The younger alien ignored the warning and repeated the greeting. Again, there
was no response. Annoyed by what he perceived to be the pump’s haughty
attitude, he drew his ray gun and said impatiently:
“Greetings Earthling. We come in peace. Do not ignore us in this way! Take us
to your leader, or I will fire.”
The older alien again warned his comrade: “You don’t want to do that. You
really don’t want to make him mad!”
“Rubbish!” replied the younger alien.
He aimed his weapon at the pump and fired. There was a huge explosion. A
massive fireball roared outwards and towards them and blew the younger alien
off his feet and deposited him in a burnt and crumpled mess 200 yards away in
a cactus patch.
Thirty-five Earth minutes later when he finally regained consciousness,
refocused his three eyes and straightened his bent antenna, he looked dazedly
up at the wiser one who was standing over him, slowly shaking his big green
head.
“What a ferocious creature!” said the young fried one.
“It damn near killed us! How did you know it was so dangerous?”

The older alien leaned over, placed a friendly feeler on the younger one’s now
crispy peeling flesh and shared some knowledge:
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned during my travels through the galaxy” said the
wise old alien.
“When a guy has a willy he can wrap around himself twice and then stick it in
his ear, you don’t mess with him!!”