Q. What are the secrets you’re keeping?
A. If I tell you, I won’t be keeping them.
Q. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
A. No, I would never think a thing like that.
Q. Did you just say what I thought you just said?
A. I don’t know. How good is your hearing?
Q. Why is nothing ever simple?
A. Where do you want me to start?
Q. Will you ask me that again in ten years time?
A. Probably not.
Q. What do people in China call their good plates?
A. Good plates.
Posted in definition, etymology, Humour, joke, word
I found this etymology:
“This delightful-sounding word possibly comes to English from the Anglo-Norman hapertas meaning “small ware,” though the origin is unknown. Haberdashery first entered English in the early fourteen-hundreds, though the term for the proprietor of this kind of shop or these kinds of goods, a haberdasher predates haberdashery by one hundred years.”
So did M. Haberdasher twiddle his thumbs in an empty shop for a century?
Cut price haberdashery is perfect for a cheap frill.
One night, a lorry driver decides to take a shortcut over the moors. Half way across, all the electrics on his lorry go dead and he grinds to a halt. All is darkness and desolation. Although not normally of a nervous disposition, the driver feels a terrible dread creep over him. So he finds his torch, climbs out of the cab and looks for the source of the problem. He’s routing around in the engine compartment when he hears a ghastly voice from the dark “It’s your earth lead”. Shaking with fear, the driver looks around, but can see no-one but a huge black horse, staring at him from the field beside the road. Frantically, the driver again hunts for the cause of the fault. Again comes the eerie voice “It’s your earth lead”. Still there is no-one to be seen, just the horse staring at him. So the driver open his battery box; finds that the earth lead has indeed come adrift; and he pushes it back on. All of the electrics on his lorry are immediately alive again, so the driver leaps back into his cab and races away as fast as he can.
The driver is feeling a little shaken by this experience, so he pulls in at the next public house on route and orders himself a stiff drink. The landlord is aware of the tremble in the driver’s voice and that all is not well. “What’s your problem driver: you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”. So the driver relates the tale of the huge black horse on the moor. “Ah now” says the landlord, nodding sagely “you’ll not be knowing of the local legend. There’s many who’ve called in here, scared witless by the black horse. Mind, you should count yourself most fortunate that it was the black horse you met and not the white one.”
“Why?” asks the driver, eyes wide with fright.
“’Cos the white one knows nothing about electrics.”
For as long as anyone could remember, Bill and John had fished together in the canal. Every day they were there together, without fail. One Tuesday morning, they were sitting side-by-side on the bank, as usual, when Bill said “I’m not coming tomorrow.”
“Not coming tomorrow?” replied John, utterly aghast.
“No, sorry, I can’t ‘cos I’m getting married. It’s OK though. I’ll be here again on Thursday.”
John heaved a sigh of relief “Oh, that’s OK then.”
Thursday morning, sure enough, they’re fishing together again. But John’s curiosity is piqued “This new wife: are you going to tell me a bit about her?”
“Well, there’s not much to tell, really”.
“Oh” says John.
After a while, John decides to try again: “Is she a looker?”
“No, quite plain, ugly even.”
“Oh” says John.
“Is she an intellectual then, clever like?” asks John, albeit without much conviction.
“No, I’d say she’s pretty thick, really.”
“Oh” says John.
John is nothing if not persistent: “Well, she must be a bubbly personality then; you know, fun to be with?”
“No, she’s quite boring.”
“Oh” says John.
“I’ll bet she’s loaded. Is she? Rich widow or such-like?”
“No, poor as a church mouse.”
“Oh” says John.
“I know, I’ve got the measure of you matey-boy: I’ll bet she’s a nymphomaniac, goes like a bunny, shags you silly every night?”
“No, she’s not interested in sex at all: totally celibate.”
“Oh” says John.
John’s confusion is growing. Eventually he can stand it no longer and challenges his friend “Bill, this makes no sense. If she’s ugly, stupid, thick, boring, broke and celibate, why on earth did you marry her?”
“She’s got worms.”
A most under-rated labour-saving device:
1. Wastes no time finding the facts.
2. Avoids wasted effort checking other points of view.
3. Ducks all those tedious arguments.
4. Ignores distractions from respect for the feelings or sensibilities of others.
5. Allows the user single-minded focus on selfish exploit.
Posted in bed, Humour, joke, Marriage, relationships, Sex, Uncategorized, Wife
I went to Scunthorpe Wine Circle last night as they had a comedy act on. I can’t remember all of the material I laughed long and hard at, but his opening gambit stayed with me:
“My wife has decided we’ll sleep in separate beds from now on. My bed will be in Lincoln and hers will be in Liverpool.”
Posted in communication, dog, ex-wife, Marriage, relationships, Wife, women
I’m assuming that there’s a first time for all of us. Well, very nearly all of us. Very few people, I suggest, marry the first person they date and remain with that person ‘til death them do part. So, it follow, nearly everyone has an “ex” somewhere.
Names are important; I realise that. But there are only so many things that anyone can think about at any particular moment and still fewer that you can actually concentrate upon. So my defence, your honour, is one of absent-mindedness; nothing more sinister than that.
I have previously called my wife by the dog’s name and my dog by my wife’s name. Neither of these transgressions prompted more than a passing comment (though the dog looked confused).
I realise that it was most impolitic to call my present wife by my ex-wife’s name. It wasn’t that I was thinking of my ex-wife. Had I been concentrating upon her, the misdemeanour would have been less and not more likely. It was only a “slip of the tongue”. Suffice to say that the ensuing debate has persuaded me to avoid any repeat.
Posted in chat-up lines, Dating, Humour, joke, Marriage, relationships, Sex
Dating sites should have feedback, anonymous of course. Everyone you meet, you should give an appraisal of; marks out of ten for dress sense, sweetness of breath, conversation prowess, most tactile or snoggable, and the like. They could prepare league tables of best performers in the various categories; features on star turns; rookie of the month for the recently dumped or divorced. Just think how much easier this would make finding Mister or Missus Right.
14 Monday Jan 2013
Posted in dog, happy, image, mad, pets, photography, Uncategorized, Weather, Wife
The chickens need regular feeding to keep warm in bad weather. Maeve took the opportunity to photograph Smudge. The problem is that the snow is so exciting that she feels compelled to dash about like a complete eejit (Smudge that is, not Maeve), making portraiture impossible.
