The Virtual Pub
Come Inside... => The Comedy Room => Topic started by: The Moan Ranger on July 25, 2007, 11:33:58 AM
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Two 90 year old men, Mike and Joe, have been friends all of their lives.
When it's clear that Joe is dying, Mike visits him every day. One day Mike says, "Joe, we both loved rugby all our lives, and we played rugby on Saturdays together for so many years. Please do me one favour, when you get to Heaven, somehow you must let me know if there's rugby there."
Joe looks up at Mike from his death bed," Mike, you've been my best friend for many years. If it's at all possible, I'll do this favour for you. Shortly after that, Joe passes on.
At midnight a couple of nights later, Mike is awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to him, "Mike--Mike."
"Who is it? asks Mike sitting up suddenly. "Who is it?"
"Mike--it's me, Joe."
"You're not Joe. Joe just died."
"I'm telling you, it's me, Joe," insists the voice."
"Joe! Where are you?"
"In heaven", replies Joe. "I have some really good news and a little bad news."
"Tell me the good news first," says Mike.
"The good news," Joe says," is that there's rugby in heaven. Better yet, all of our old friends who died before us are here, too. Better than that, we're all young again. Better still, it's always spring time and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play rugby all we want,
and we never get tired." That's fantastic," says Mike. "It's beyond my wildest dreams! So what's
the bad news?
"You're in the team for Tuesday."
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lol: lol:
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Excellent! lol:
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And the way I'm feeling at the moment, I may be pulling my shorts on by Saturday...
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And the way I'm feeling at the moment, I may be pulling my shorts on by Saturday...
Wassssuuuuppp?
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Nothing that a few more pints might cure - time to go and try.
I am an Englishman, a trooper and a smoker. I will die when I am good and ready, not before. Angry9:
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Well, before you shed your mortal coil make sure we have all your jokes like the above? and your ?bike. whistle:
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Down in the valley Pontypandy XV are due to play Llareggub XV one Saturday afternoon.
The Revd Trefor Williams-Jones is to referee the match.
Shortly after kick off he awards a penalty to Pontypandy and up steps their number 10 to take the kick.
After the usual preparation, tossing a handfull of grass into the wind etc the number 10 kicks for goal, slices the ball badly and it sails harmlessly into the crowd close to the corner flag. "Bloody 'ell" exclaims the kicker.
The Revd Williams-Jones is straight in there. Calls the Number 10 over and gives him a class A dressing down about the use of bad language on the field of play.
Ten minutes later Pontypandy score a try and the Number 10 steps up to take the conversion kick. This time he hooks the ball and misses what should have been a straightforward conversion. "Bloody 'ell" he shouts and the Revd Williams-Jones is there again. "Look boyo" he says "I've told you once, this is your last warning. Anymore bad language and you're in the bin for ten minutes." "Sorry Ref" says the Number 10 "I can't help it you know ~ it just sort of comes out with the frustration". "Next time you feel the need for such language" lectures the Revd "ask the Lord for help and you will find there is no need to swear"
The match progresses and with 10 seconds to go and the score at 15 points each the Number 10 is called upon to kick another penalty .... It's make or break. Win or lose. He takes his time, places the ball, three strides and kicks ...... and the ball is heading towards the corner flag again. "Bloo..... " and he see the Revd watching him closely. "Oh Lord help me" he cries and the sky instantly darkens, the ball curves through almost 90 degrees and with a crack of thunder passes straight between the posts.
And the Reverend Trefor Williams-Jones said "BLOODY 'ELL"
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Down in the valley Pontypandy XV are due to play Llareggub XV one Saturday afternoon.
The Revd Trefor Williams-Jones is to referee the match.
Shortly after kick off he awards a penalty to Pontypandy and up steps their number 10 to take the kick.
After the usual preparation, tossing a handfull of grass into the wind etc the number 10 kicks for goal, slices the ball badly and it sails harmlessly into the crowd close to the corner flag. "Bloody 'ell" exclaims the kicker.
The Revd Williams-Jones is straight in there. Calls the Number 10 over and gives him a class A dressing down about the use of bad language on the field of play.
Ten minutes later Pontypandy score a try and the Number 10 steps up to take the conversion kick. This time he hooks the ball and misses what should have been a straightforward conversion. "Bloody 'ell" he shouts and the Revd Williams-Jones is there again. "Look boyo" he says "I've told you once, this is your last warning. Anymore bad language and you're in the bin for ten minutes." "Sorry Ref" says the Number 10 "I can't help it you know ~ it just sort of comes out with the frustration". "Next time you feel the need for such language" lectures the Revd "ask the Lord for help and you will find there is no need to swear"
The match progresses and with 10 seconds to go and the score at 15 points each the Number 10 is called upon to kick another penalty .... It's make or break. Win or lose. He takes his time, places the ball, three strides and kicks ...... and the ball is heading towards the corner flag again. "Bloo..... " and he see the Revd watching him closely. "Oh Lord help me" he cries and the sky instantly darkens, the ball curves through almost 90 degrees and with a crack of thunder passes straight between the posts.
And the Reverend Trefor Williams-Jones said "BLOODY 'ELL"
lol:
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Well, before you shed your mortal coil make sure we have all your jokes like the above? and your ?bike. whistle:
A few pints of Young's last night, some lovely nosh in front of the Top Gear special and was up and in early thisd morning.
After that, I came into work eyes:
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Well, before you shed your mortal coil make sure we have all your jokes like the above? and your ?bike. whistle:
A few pints of Young's last night, some lovely nosh in front of the Top Gear special and was up and in early thisd morning.
After that, I came into work eyes:
Bugger... noooo:
That was an exclamation by the way, not a question?
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That Top Gear special was entertaining though! lol:
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That Top Gear special was entertaining though! lol:
I couldn?t watch it due to atmospheric conditions? noooo:
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That Top Gear special was entertaining though! lol:
It's a car thing though - you shuld concern yourself only with matters of the kitchen/bedroom. The focus of the program was not cuddly ickle white bears, but a gangly Northern git with silly hair and a gangly West Coaster in a Nipponese car, against a Brum and some hounds.
Now, back to your recipes Wench...
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That Top Gear special was entertaining though! lol:
It's a car thing though - you shuld concern yourself only with matters of the kitchen/bedroom. The focus of the program was not cuddly ickle white bears, but a gangly Northern git with silly hair and a gangly West Coaster in a Nipponese car, against a Brum and some hounds.
Now, back to your recipes Wench...
Spoken like a man who knows the reason Brides wear white ~ to match the kitchen appliances!
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Smiting left right and centre!!!!!
Troublesome boys!!!
I only watch because I have an odd attraction for Hammond. redface:
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Smiting left right and centre!!!!!
Troublesome boys!!!
I only watch because I have an odd attraction for Hammond. redface:
Not you too. Mrs & Miss S both have the hots for the Hampster.
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I'm not alone!!!! lol: Mr Wench told me I was a freak! cussing:
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The 9yo (in10 days time) and the 6yo boys think he is great too ~ but I suspect that's because they think they are bigger than him.
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The 9yo (in10 days time) and the 6yo boys think he is great too ~ but I suspect that's because they think they are bigger than him.
Why do I seem to have a thing for short men. eeek: I never used to. sad24:
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The 9yo (in10 days time) and the 6yo boys think he is great too ~ but I suspect that's because they think they are bigger than him.
Why do I seem to have a thing for short men. eeek: I never used to. sad24:
My doctor tells me that my back problems are caused by my spine "compacting". I used to be six foot but now only Five Ten and a half. ~ how much further until you are interested?
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Think Mr Wench is five foot six/seven. eeek:
At least I don't get a crick in my neck anymore.
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Think Mr Wench is five foot six/seven. eeek:
At least I don't get a crick in my neck anymore.
Ah ~ He'll be Welsh then.
Funny when I was 6' the first Mrs S was 5'
Now having shrunk the second Mrs S is just about the same height as me.
Still ~ all the same size under the duvet ~ or so they say.
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The 9yo (in10 days time) and the 6yo boys think he is great too ~ but I suspect that's because they think they are bigger than him.
Why do I seem to have a thing for short men. eeek: I never used to. sad24:
Bernie Ecclestone?
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Think Mr Wench is five foot six/seven. eeek:
At least I don't get a crick in my neck anymore.
Ah ~ He'll be Welsh then.
Funny when I was 6' the first Mrs S was 5'
Now having shrunk the second Mrs S is just about the same height as me.
Still ~ all the same size under the duvet ~ or so they say.
Well, that just isn't so is it. Unless the lady in question has a terribly long torso.
Bernie who?
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Think Mr Wench is five foot six/seven. eeek:
At least I don't get a crick in my neck anymore.
Ah ~ He'll be Welsh then.
Funny when I was 6' the first Mrs S was 5'
Now having shrunk the second Mrs S is just about the same height as me.
Still ~ all the same size under the duvet ~ or so they say.
Well, that just isn't so is it. Unless the lady in question has a terribly long torso.
Bernie who?
Not the one with the St Bernard!
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fupload6.postimage.org%2F565543%2Fbernie.jpg&hash=6a333a3db234b301f86b26fd336781e8908a170f) (http://upload6.postimage.org/565543/photo_hosting.html)
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Think Mr Wench is five foot six/seven. eeek:
At least I don't get a crick in my neck anymore.
Ah ~ He'll be Welsh then.
Funny when I was 6' the first Mrs S was 5'
Now having shrunk the second Mrs S is just about the same height as me.
Still ~ all the same size under the duvet ~ or so they say.
Well, that just isn't so is it. Unless the lady in question has a terribly long torso.
Bernie who?
Bernie Ecclestone = Mr Formula 1 Racing = Multi Millionaire = Shortarse
(https://www.virtual-pub.com/SMF/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.telegraph.co.uk%2Fmotoring%2Fgraphics%2F2005%2F12%2F31%2Fmrclassics31b.jpg&hash=2e07dbbf4b7f5027f9fec57863f09544fd88272d)
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So what first attracted you to multi-millionare short arse Bernie Eclestone Wenchy? rubschin:
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So what first attracted you to multi-millionare short arse Bernie Eclestone Wenchy? rubschin:
Your love of short men, he is a squillionaire, he is very old and won't last much longer? I wonder what the attraction is?
As Phil and Kirsty would say "Ticks all the right boxes"
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He is beginning to seem more attractive by the second. However, I fear brunettes with a modicum of intelligence and their very own tat mountain are probably not his thing.
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He is beginning to seem more attractive by the second. However, I fear brunettes with a modicum of intelligence and their very own tat mountain are probably not his thing.
Ah that's your problem ~ you would need to handle his "thing".
You will note the lady with him in my pic is his wife. Brunette? ~ Check ... Intelligence? ~ Well she sure isn't there without having thought it out is she?
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Think Mr Wench is five foot six/seven. eeek:
At least I don't get a crick in my neck anymore.
Ah ~ He'll be Welsh then.
Funny when I was 6' the first Mrs S was 5'
Now having shrunk the second Mrs S is just about the same height as me.
Still ~ all the same size under the duvet ~ or so they say.
Well, that just isn't so is it. Unless the lady in question has a terribly long torso.
Bernie who?
Quite so Wenchy, quite so.
As the old saying goes:
When you're nose to nose, your toes are in.
When you're toes to toes, your nose is in.
And, when you're in, there's no-one to talk to!
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He is beginning to seem more attractive by the second. However, I fear brunettes with a modicum of intelligence and their very own tat mountain are probably not his thing.
Ah that's your problem ~ you would need to handle his "thing".
You will note the lady with him in my pic is his wife. Brunette? ~ Check ... Intelligence? ~ Well she sure isn't there without having thought it out is she?
Many moons ago when I was but a young slip of a thing living in Spain I considered going down that route. The elderly yet loaded man that would allow me to live a life of unfettered luxury. The playground of millionaries that was Puerto Banus offered many of them. However, it was indeed the idea of handling their "thing" that put me off. At times I wonder if I was a tad hasty in my decision. ;)