A Welsh Take On Horseburgers
This article in the Mirror talks about and links to a video that has gone viral. It concerns a pantomime horse suffering from grief over the loss of its parents in a Tesco store in West Wales.
A Real Joke Fest
The number of jokes after the horse-meat got into the supermarket burgers has been enormous.
The Guardian has even created a summary of all the best.
Or should that be worst!
This photo is priceless.
They Don’t Like It Up ‘Em
I know Corporal Jones famous catch-phrase comes from less-political correct times, but this story from Burma shows how dictators get very annoyed at well-directed humour.
After all, humour is probably the sharpest weapon in the arsenal and it doesn’t generally kill people, but it might change their ideas. Or discourage others from following their evil ways.
Although, there is no record of what Hitler thought of Spike Jones‘s song, Der Fuehrer’s Face. My father had a few 78’s of his music.
So long may The Moustache Brothers in Burma be free to poke fun at one of the most evil regimes in the world. My only hope, is that they can retire quietly, after the regime has gone.
Fifty Sheds Of Grey
According to The Sunday Times, this parody is outselling the EL James classic and is at number five on the best seller list!
From what I’ve read about it, it might make the ideal present for the not so modern man.
The Onion Gets Taken As The Truth
I like stories like this, where a humorous piece from a satirical web site like The Onion, gets taken as the truth, by the media in some country where freedom and press don’t go anywhere together. This time it’s China that gets fooled, but Iran has been duped in the past.
The trouble is that these countries wouldn’t make fun of a serious leader so wouldn’t know humour if it hit them in the face.
I wonder if they have April Fools’ Day in China and Iran?
Taliban Condemn Bishop Vote
This is the headline over a humorous picture in the Sunday Times, showing three fully covered-up women from Afghanistan, with a speech bubble saying, “It’s appalling how the Church of England treats its women”
Memories Of That Was The Week That Was
They’re talking about That Was The Week That Was on Radio 5, this afternoon.
It was on late at night and I had to get up early in the morning. So my father used to get me up just as the program started.
I can remember several things about the program.
- Bernard Levin’s interviews. My father hated pomposity and nearly got himself a hernia laughing at some of Levin’s interviews.
- Frankie Howerd on the Budget, which is surely one of the greatest monologues ever written and performed. It was written by Muir and Norden.
- The program on the death of President Kennedy. Surely, the finest tribute program ever.
- Millicent Martin’s songs. And her dresses that appealed to a 14-year-old.
- David Frost’s tactics to handle overrunning of the program.
I’ve never seen anything so good since.
Best Turkish Barber In
This sign made me laugh!
Best Turkish Barber In
It also reminded me of the limerick.
There was a man called Lime
Who tried to make up a rhyme
Things all went fine
To the very last line
Where he had far far too many words to fit into the space available.
An Enjoyable Afternoon
I must be one of few men, who likes going clothes shopping with ladies. I often did with C and I do wonder if it all started with my mother teaching me how to make clothes and making them for C in the early years of our marriage.
My mother was an expert dressmaker and in the days after the war, when money was short for us, she would even make trousers for me, by cutting the flies out of someone’s cast off and then build a new pair on them. Remember in those days, boys were in shorts until thirteen on so, probably to save money.
I suppose the best thing I ever made for C, was a long winter coat. So she had one, when they became fashionable and most of her friends didn’t.
With C, I used to have the knack of taking a dress off the rack and saying that will suit you. Sometimes I was right and sometimes I was wrong.
But I do know, from my computing experiences with graphics and my skill in engineering drawing, that I did have the ability to imagine well in 3-D.
Whether it is undiminished after the stroke I do not know.
So yesterday, a friend, who’s going to a wedding in New York later in the year, dragged me along, to see if I could help. She needed a smart day dress.
Her problems with clothes are two-fold.
The first is genetic, in that she is not tall at all, but with a very good figure and a very small waist. The second, is that she has no patience for clothes shopping and was very likely to do a runner.
In some ways, it developed into a scene not unlike that of Grace Brothers, more though in the jokes and things that were said, than the characters involved.
The classic was when the patience-rich assistant said that that most dresses they had were for older ladies and my friend was a lot younger. She then announced her age to everyone. The assistants had a good laugh, but the lady behind, who was also looking for a similar rather formal dress didn’t. But then she had a figure that would be extremely difficult to dress properly at all.
Some of the funniest cracks were reserved for whom the assistant thought would be at the wedding, whilst my friend was in the changing room. They were also said with actions, showing the size of people expected.
After trying on three or four dresses of the six or so, brought to her, my friend actually bought one. She liked it and I’ve had a text to say that she still does.
So we all could retreat after success.
I should have days out like this more often!
Where Is Roy Brooks When You Need Him?
I was taken over a property tonight, that if the owner had wanted to sell it, he’d have been in great need of the estate agent, who could sell anything; Roy Brooks.
This article sums up the Roy Brooks, that everybody knew from his adverts in the Sunday papers. Here’s a paragraph from the article.
Who could resist making an app-ointment to view a bargain described thus: “Wanted: Someone with taste, means and a stomach strong enough to buy this erstwhile house of ill-repute in Pimlico. It is untouched by the 20th century as far as conveniences for even the basic human decencies are concerned. Although it reeks of damp or worse, the plaster is coming off the walls and daylight peeps through a hole in the roof, it is still habitable judging by the bed of rags, fag ends and empty bottles in one corner. Plenty of scope for the socially aspiring to express their decorative taste and get their abode in The Glossy, and nothing to stop them putting Westminster on their notepaper. Comprises 10 rather unpleasant rooms with slimy back yard, 4,650 Freehold. Tarted up, these houses make 15,000.”
There is also a book on Roy called Brothel in Pimlico. It sounds like a must-have for every toilet!
The trouble is do we miss Roy’s humour or honest estate agents most?
The Anonymous Widower 