Some more jokes from Les Dawson.

I often browse through Les Dawson's Secret Notebooks. Here are a couple of lines that made me smile - like a crack in a septic tank as Les would say.

"Did you ever see the size of his verucca?" "No, I didn't know him that well."

"I'll have you know I'm only twelve stone and some pounds." "How many pounds?" "Sixty two."

"...[Bert]...hasn't performed since Dunkirk. He says it makes the shrapnel move."

re.holidays..."Did you have the shish kebabs?" "From the moment we arrived. Bert blamed it on the way they cooked the chips."

My parents were determined that I should carry on the family tradition of music. For seven years I sweated away on the piano stool. Then things improved - my dad bought me a piano.

My great aunt Margaret, just before she died at the ripe old age of ninety eight, called me to her bedside and whispered, nephew, if you ever fail to get a laugh as a comedian I shall turn over in my grave. That was ten years ago. Yesterday I attended a seance in Birmingham. The medium went into a deep trance and said, 'I don't know for whom this concerns, but I'm getting a very strange message through from someone called Spinning Maggie.'

All from Les Dawson's Secret Notebooks, selected and introduced by Tracy Dawson. £9.99 from JR Books Ltd.

Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac - "Oh Well", Live@ Music Mash 1969

Love Peter Green-era Fleetwood Mac. Sheer class.

The Meaning of Existence (oh why not just say life) captured in a sentence #2

I don't love you any more - I haven't for years - but I'll assist you to the toilet because I won't be able to cope with the guilt if I don't.

The Meaning of Existence, captured in a sentence #1

I still love you even if you're old and you can't manage the toilet.

Name this tune in one

#Err...#......got it yet?

Here's a clue. It's nothing out of the "hit parade". Hit parades for the last twenty nine years actually. There you go.

Here's a two and a three. #Err...err....errrrr........#

Prize is, as ever, a year's supply of pork scratchings made from real pig, but this time instead of all the bristles being removed by my own gnarled arthritic fingers, the pigs were waxed. Much simpler.

Pinky favoured the vajazzle so mind your fillings.

Is Life Worth Living?

"Geoffrey?"

"Yes?"

"Pour us a snifter and chuck us the baccy will you? It's gone ten."

"OK. Wait till I get off the bog first."

"JUST HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!!!" interrupted a familiar voice. None other than the Ghastly Dr. Wilson. Covered in seaweed and stinking of sewage as usual. (why is this? I cannot be arsed explaining, but it's All There in previous posts....) Sticking his head in the window without so much as would you mind or a by your leave.

"Oh for -"

"What the Kentucky Fried Chicken are YOU doing here o Ghastly one? Lovely to see you and all that," lied Geoffrey, as he carefully replaced the lav seat and forced a smile.

"I'm here to save you two utter wastes of space from yourselves. Don't have that drink. Put that baccy down. Pop the kettle on and make some hot water instead. Don't have that bacon and egg sandwich. Rather, have a plate of cracked bulgar wheat with a splash of miso, raw garlic and a steamed macadamia nut. If you stick with that regime through the week you can treat yourselves to some Barleycup and an organic sultana each on weekends. Maybe a carob bar. Mind and go for all these cancer tests as well. And don't forget your five a day. Or your compulsory forty five minutes of aerobic exercise."

"Will we live to a ripe old age then Doctor - if we do all that you say?"

"Well you'll avoid the sanctions."

"Sanctions?"

"If you don't adhere to current medical thinking, we'll shoot you. Simple as. You've no right to be alive and taking up space on the planet if you can't take a few simple steps to protect your own health."

"What about pleasure? Cutting loose? Letting go occasionally?"

"Some might take issue but personally I see nothing wrong with having a prune instead of a sultana at Christmas. Surely you can't complain about that! Look at me! I'm a picture of health. Okay, I'm bald, I've got a bad leg, a paunch, piles, hammer toes, gout, halitosis, gingivitis, and chronic flatulence but otherwise I'm the best specimen you're likely to see round here."

"But you're only 27."

"And your point is?"

Geoffrey and I exchanged glances, then nodded.

"Do you have the gun on you now? for doing the shooting part."

"Oh no! a-hahaha! I have other people to do that - nurses, for example. They get £28 a head plus an hour's annual leave. No - I'm a doctor - my role is to cure, never to kill."


No gun, eh? We were safe enough. It was time to unleash the Wheechie Net.

"Press the lever please Geoffrey."

WHEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCCHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Suddenly the Ghastly Wilson was bundled into a sturdy net and wheeched or "drawn" upwards and sidie-ways by hi-powered rope attachments towards the handy catapult which we have installed beside the house for just such eventualities.

"PEEEEEEEEEEEEEEyoinnnnnnnnGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!" catapult twangs.

"SPLAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" The Ghastly Wilson is launched bay-wards, where the ever-hungry, snapping jaws of the orca await.

"Nom nom nom.................."

"Heh heh heh. Bye bye Wilson! What were you saying about cracked bulgar wheat?"

Treble brandies all round.

Taken on Midsummer's Day, 2011

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yeah?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..........................

Yes - Starship Trooper

Prog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The first Yes album is their only listenable one - in my opinion. Chuck another log on the fire and let's have some more nettle beer. We're not 65 yet!

Scots wurd o' th' day

"Bumfuck" - v., to cough loudly and suddenly in front of a horse. As in, "I got such a fright when you started bumfucking that I dropped my bananas. Can't you gargle or something?"

Scots wurd o' th' day. Bumfuck.

I'm lying of course.

It's "chitterie-chatterie", n., a piece of bread eaten immediately after bathing. As in, "I'm starving after that hip-bath - throw another lump of coal on the fire Isa and pass us ma chitterie-chatterie. Bung some crowdie on it if there's any ben the hoose."

That one IS genuine - from page 83 of Chambers's Scots Dictionary, 1959 edition.

Or

"Dorty-pouch", n., a saucy person. As in, "We dinnae hae nae dorty pouches in this hoose, ken."
From page 141, ibid. as they say.

Benny Hill remake of The Wicker Man

Posted this one before but worth another look. HAPPY SOLSTICE!!!

The Doors 02 Who Do You Love Absolutely Live

Y'see?

re. previous posts - THIS is what spews forth when one has what is commonly called a "hangover".

Death, Biscuits and Baccy

Is there anything else worth thinking about?

Vic and Bob - Mulligan and O'Hare

Still has me in hysterics.