Jokes & Funnies

A couple had separate bedrooms and their daughter alternated between them to share the room. In order to protect her from the finer aspects of adult life - you know.. sex - they invented a secret language. They decided to call it 'sending a letter'.

One day, the little girl went into her mother's bedroom and told her that Daddy had said that he needed to send a letter and was she available to type it?

The girl tool a message back to Daddy that said, "sorry love but the typewriter only has red ink at the moment"!!

A few days later though another message read "It's OK, the typewriter has been fixed and I can type that letter for you now - with pleasure"

The little girl, now feeling quite tired, returned to her mother and told her that daddy said "Thank you for the offer but as the letter was somewhat urgent, I wrote it by hand"

^^^
:lol:

The Moral of Auntie Brenda
A teacher gave her class of 11 year olds an assignment:

To get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. The next day the class came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

Ashley said, 'My father's a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens. One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the car when we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs got broken.'

'What's the morale of that story?' asked the teacher.
'Don't put all your eggs in one basket!'
'Very good,' said the teacher.

Next little Sarah raised her hand and said,

Our family are farmers too but we raise chickens for the meat market.
One day we had a dozen eggs, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this story is,

Don't count your chickens before they're hatched'.'

‘That was a fine story Sarah.'

Michael, do you have a story to share?'
'Yes. My daddy told me this story about my Aunty Brenda

Aunty Brenda was a flight engineer on a plane in the Gulf War and her plane got hit. She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a bottle of whisky, a machine gun and a machete. She drank the whisky on the way down so it wouldn't break and then she landed right in the middle of 100 enemy troops.
She killed seventy of them with the machine gun until she ran out of bullets.Then she killed twenty more with the machete until the blade broke. And then she killed the last ten with her bare hands.

‘Good heavens,’ said the horrified teacher, ‘what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?’

Stay away from Aunty Brenda when she's pissed.’

This is the tale of Francis Griswold, a young Welshman who was a squire to a knight in the English army in the wars against the French.


In those days, battles were fought on huge chargers that could just about carry the knight and all his armour. After another battle where neither side could win, young Griswold had an idea.


The next time the English rode out to do battle with the French, they were all riding Welsh pit ponies. The French laughed at them of course but the joke was on them as the ponies just rode under the big chargers, the knights tickled the big horse's tummies making them roll over giggling and trapping their riders. Glorious victory for the English.


Young Mr Griswold was given a whole cavalry to himself and knighted for his cleverness.


I won't bore you with the various processes that had each side riding smaller and smaller animals but eventually the English were down to dachshunds. Sadly, the French got tired of this whole process and just sat on the things. Complete rout and only one knight escaped.


Guess who?


The rain started to come down as he crept away from the terrible scene of his final defeat. Thunder, lightning, hail snow, you name it so he was a bit soggy as he crept away on his dachshund (which, by the way was a long haired animal and therefore looked a bit tatty too - more of which at the end) . Eventually, just as he was despairing of finding some cover, he saw a light in the distance and headed for it. It turned out to be a small cottage. He banged on the door and eventually it was opened by the master of the house who took one look at the rather damp Sir Griswold and told him to remove himself from the premises.


Just as poor Sir Francis was turning to go, an upstairs window opened and the wife of the household shouted down that they should take pity on the poor wretch because as she said to her husband………










………you can't leave a knight out on a dog like that!


I thank you.




PS. Why was the dachshund long haired?

I think this is the list of British Tits

Attachment 15208

The last one definitely represents the 'tits' of England more than Britain! ;)

Marco.

You missed out the penduline tit:





http://www.wellbeingofwomen.org.uk/d...2057%20(3).jpg

I rather like old Annie... She has good 'no nonsense', old-fashioned values, and a low tolerance threshold for sponging chavs!! ;)

Marco.

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Gordon Steadman

PS. Why was the dachshund long haired?

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Good grief that was dreadful. Hopefully you can resurrect when I bite: I give up - why was the dachshund long haired?

Quote:

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Originally Posted by Andrei

Good grief that was dreadful. Hopefully you can resurrect when I bite: I give up - why was the dachshund long haired?

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:lol:

'cos it was a shaggy dog story!!