Please can we have some more 'funnies'?
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peter
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A public information announcement from Essex Police.
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- Public-Awareness.jpg (21.35 KiB) Viewed 4395 times
Do not put off thanking people when they have helped you, as they may not be there to thank later.
I support http://www.hearingdogs.org.uk/
I support http://www.hearingdogs.org.uk/
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Shallot Man
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Beautiful. 
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alan refail
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Cred air o bob deg a glywi, a thi a gei rywfaint bach o wir (hen ddihareb Gymraeg)
Believe one tenth of what you hear, and you will get some little truth (old Welsh proverb)
Believe one tenth of what you hear, and you will get some little truth (old Welsh proverb)
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peter
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Not going to attach any pictures but, an extraordinary grassroots army campaign in support of Prince Harry had gone viral. British Army top brass are reportedly livid at their troops posing for photographs stark naked except for, say, a strategically slung rifle.
It's gone as far as entire units lined up starkers, the Navy, Royal Marines & RAF contributing and some foreign armed forces joining in.
It's gone as far as entire units lined up starkers, the Navy, Royal Marines & RAF contributing and some foreign armed forces joining in.
Do not put off thanking people when they have helped you, as they may not be there to thank later.
I support http://www.hearingdogs.org.uk/
I support http://www.hearingdogs.org.uk/
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Shallot Man
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On a more serious note, go to youtube and watch New Zealand Troops doing the Hakka in memory of three comrades recently killed in Afghanistan. Most moving. 
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farmer jon
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dismayed at his countries meagre medal haul at the london olympics,the irish sports minister has announced a multi-million euro cash injection for budding sportspeople to train in their fav sport for the rio olympics. however tragedy struck as budding olympic skydiver paddy o'donnell was killed on his first ever jump. his brother & coach seamus o'donnell said he couldn't understand why paddy's snorkel & flippers failed to inflate !
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alan refail
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There was a little boy by the name of Billy. Billy was an ordinary little boy who did ordinary little boy things, like playing, eating, bathing, destroying things, and going to school. One day, when Billy went down to the bus stop to meet the bus to go to school, he found all of his friends huddled around in a little group, talking about the Purple Wombat.
Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them, "What's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the chldren shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm, "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man. No, no buts -- march!"
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.
"Well, Billy," he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Mr. Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff."
"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?"
"It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is."
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended."
The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?"
"Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked. "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy," his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?"
"Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"You...don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!"
Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way -- lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.
Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy."
Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy."
It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat."
Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy."
The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy."
Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."
It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy."
The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."
It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim, so he drowned.
What's the moral of the story? Don't stand up in a boat.
Being a little boy, Billy was curious. So he asked them, "What's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the children exclaimed disgustedly. For the rest of the morning, they would not go near Billy, always standing far away and staring at him. Then the bus came. Billy, confused, got on the bus along with the rest of the children.
"Hey, Mister Bus Driver!" one of the chldren shouted. "Billy doesn't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
The bus driver turned around abruptly. "You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" he said in disbelief. He ordered Billy to sit in the very back of the bus, all by himself.
Eventually, they got to school, and Billy got off the bus and went to class. Class proceeded normally; the students did the pledge of allegiance and worked on their multiplication tables for a while. Then the teacher led them into a unit on geography. Billy was not really paying attention, but he heard the teacher mention something about the Purple Wombat.
Billy's hand shot up, and, when the teacher called on him, Billy asked, "Teacher, what's the Purple Wombat?"
"You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" the teacher cried in alarm, "Get yourself to the principal's office right now, young man. No, no buts -- march!"
So Billy headed down the long, dark, frightening hallway to the principal's office. He slowly opened the large, heavy door, and timidly entered the room behind it. There, at a large, imposing desk, sat the principal. The principal was a hulking man, balding, with a thin mustache. He spoke in a deep baritone voice. He was enough to frighten little boys like Billy who had been sent to his office almost to tears.
"Well, Billy," he began slowly. "What seems to be the problem?"
"Mr. Principal, I just don't know what's going on today. Everyone's been acting weird, and they're all treating me really badly. Like teacher just sent me to you and stuff."
"Now, Billy, I'm here to help you. I'm the princi-Pal, after all. Heh heh. Can you tell me why everyone's acting so strangely?"
"It's because I don't know what some stupid Purple Wombat is."
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is? That's it. I am calling your mother, young man. Consider yourself suspended."
The principal threw Billy out of his office and told him to go home. Billy, crying, began the long walk home. When he got there, his mother was standing in the doorway waiting for him.
"Billy!" she called, sobbing, "I was so worried about you! What happened?"
"Mom," Billy cried, "Everyone was being mean to me and I had to sit in the back of the bus all by myself and the teacher sent me to the principal's office and the principal suspended me, all because I don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"What? You don't know what the Purple Wombat is?" Billy's mother shrieked. "Go to your room this minute. Go! Just wait until your father gets home!"
So Billy marched up the stairs and into his room. He collapsed on the bed, crying. After some amount of time, he heard a car pull in and some doors shutting. His father was home. He could hear his parents talking downstairs but didn't know what they were saying. Then he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and his door opened.
"Billy," his father began in that lecturing-father tone, "Your mother says you've been acting badly lately. Would you like to tell me what you've done?"
"Dad, I haven't done anything! I just don't know what the Purple Wombat is!"
"You...don't know what the Purple Wombat is. Well, in that case, you can just stay in this room all night, mister. And forget about dinner!"
Billy's father slammed the door and stormed off. Billy collapsed on his bed, crying his eyes out. He spent the next several hours that way -- lying there, crying, wishing he would wake up.
Then, in the middle of the night, he heard a voice. It said: "Billy. I am the Purple Wombat, Billy."
Billy sat up with a start. He looked around the room, trying to find the source of the voice, but he could not.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Find me, Billy."
It was coming from out the window. So Billy got up, put his shoes on, opened the window, and climbed out on to the roof.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat."
Billy jumped down off the roof and followed the voice down the road. He got to the edge of a wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Follow me, Billy."
The voice was coming from inside the wood. It was very dark and very frightening, but Billy didn't care. He had to find out what the Purple Wombat was. So, bravely, he entered the wood.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Keep going, Billy."
Billy kept going into the wood. He could hardly see anything, and he kept falling down and walking into things and hurting himself. But he kept going, driven by a need to find this enigma that kept calling his name.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. This way, Billy."
Eventually, Billy emerged from the wood. He was on the shore of the town lake.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. I'm out here, Billy."
It was coming from out across the lake. Billy got one of the small rowboats from the dock, untied it, and rowed out. Since he was only a small boy, it was very difficult. But he had to find out what the Purple Wombat was.
"Billy. I am the Purple Wombat. Row, Billy."
The voice was coming from across the lake. Billy doubled his effort, and the boat began to move a little faster. When he was about half way across the lake, he heard: "Billy, I am the Purple Wombat. I'm up here, Billy."
It was coming from directly above him. Billy stopped rowing and stood up to look for it. The boat tipped over, dumping him in the lake. Billy didn't know how to swim, so he drowned.
What's the moral of the story? Don't stand up in a boat.
Cred air o bob deg a glywi, a thi a gei rywfaint bach o wir (hen ddihareb Gymraeg)
Believe one tenth of what you hear, and you will get some little truth (old Welsh proverb)
Believe one tenth of what you hear, and you will get some little truth (old Welsh proverb)
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Shallot Man
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Pulled up at a set of traffic lights behind a large special built tonka type sort of vehicle, built like a small tank. Stenciled on the back was "YOUR SKID STOPS HERE"
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Shallot Man
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An elderly man in Queensland had owned a large property for several years.
He had a dam in one of the lower paddocks where he had planted mango and avocado trees.
The dam had been fixed up for swimming when it was built and he also had some picnic tables placed there in the shade of the fruit trees
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the dam to look it over, as he hadn't been there for a while. He grabbed a ten litre bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the dam, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his dam. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end.
One of the women shouted to him, 'We're not coming out until you leave!' The old man frowned, 'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the dam naked.'
Holding the bucket up he said, 'I'm here to feed the crocodile.'
Moral: Older men may walk slowly, but they can still think fast.
He had a dam in one of the lower paddocks where he had planted mango and avocado trees.
The dam had been fixed up for swimming when it was built and he also had some picnic tables placed there in the shade of the fruit trees
One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the dam to look it over, as he hadn't been there for a while. He grabbed a ten litre bucket to bring back some fruit. As he neared the dam, he heard voices shouting and laughing with glee. As he came closer he saw it was a bunch of young women skinny-dipping in his dam. He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end.
One of the women shouted to him, 'We're not coming out until you leave!' The old man frowned, 'I didn't come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the dam naked.'
Holding the bucket up he said, 'I'm here to feed the crocodile.'
Moral: Older men may walk slowly, but they can still think fast.
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Shallot Man
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No English dictionary has been able to explain the difference between the two words COMPLETE and FINISHED, in a way that's easy to understand. Some people say there is no difference between COMPLETE & FINISHED.
I beg to differ because there is. When you marry the right woman, you are "COMPLETE" And when you marry the wrong one, you are "FINISHED"!
And when the right one catches you with the wrong one, you are...
"COMPLETELY FINISHED" !!!
I beg to differ because there is. When you marry the right woman, you are "COMPLETE" And when you marry the wrong one, you are "FINISHED"!
And when the right one catches you with the wrong one, you are...
"COMPLETELY FINISHED" !!!
Hi Geoff,
I am sitting here at 5.45am in the morning almost unable to type from an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. I simply cannot stop and it is getting towards hysteria.
Your posting has somehow released something within my deeper self.
I have been overworking the last ten days and have clocked up around 160 hours and somehow the tensions have now been released.
Thanks for that.
JB.
I am sitting here at 5.45am in the morning almost unable to type from an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. I simply cannot stop and it is getting towards hysteria.
Your posting has somehow released something within my deeper self.
I have been overworking the last ten days and have clocked up around 160 hours and somehow the tensions have now been released.
Thanks for that.
JB.