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Wednesday, 19 August 2020


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SIR Les Patterson please

I never knew Joan Collins was that flexible.

G'day Whitewall.

Sir Les [aka Barry Humphries] is prone to over statement.

well I am a bit relieved!

...and he met a Frenchman who, on his wedding night, went to sleep as soon as his feet touched the pillow...

Knight that man!

Ahoy SoD,

Is all well with the Bard of Milborne Port?

The absence of his insights into the wonders of this existence is somewhat worrying.


Slightly off topic, I have noticed, or rather not noticed, your Monday Funnies. Admittedly, there's not a lot to laugh about these days, but let me take you back a few years when I was a Police officer, tasked with taking my Superintendant and Chief Inspector, both males, to a conference at Headquarters.
The journey took about 30 minutes and after the first 10 minutes or so discussing policies, their attention wavered nd they discussed various things, including sex. The Superintent claimed that sex was 80% pleasure and 20% work, while the Chief Inspector claimed it was 60% pleasure and 40% work. They just couldn't agree and so they asked me what I thought.
"Sex," I said, "has got to be 100% pleasure."
"How do you know that?" I was asked.
"Well," I said, "if there was any work involved, you'd have me doing it."
People wondered why I started at the bottom and worked my way down.
Please bring back the funnies.

Hope all well with you Mr Duff. We need you back on form.

You say you were a police officer Penseivat?

Well now then let's get started shall we?


An elderly couple was celebrating their sixtieth anniversary. The couple had married as childhood sweethearts and had moved back to their old neighborhood after they retired. Holding hands, they walked back to their old school. It was not locked, so they entered, and found the old desk they’d shared, where Jerry had carved I love you, Sally.

On their way back home, a bag of money fell out of an armored car, practically landing at their feet. Sally quickly picked it up and, not sure what to do with it, they took it home. There, she counted the money – fifty thousand dollars!

Jerry said, We’ve got to give it back.

Sally said, Finders keepers. She put the money back in the bag and hid it in their attic.

The next day, two police officers were canvassing the neighborhood looking for the money, and knocked on their door. Pardon me, did either of you find a bag that fell out of an armored car yesterday?

Sally said, No.

Jerry said, She¹s lying. She hid it up in the attic.

Sally said, Don’t believe him, he¹s getting senile.

The agents turned to Jerry and began to question him.

One said: Tell us the story from the beginning.

Jerry said, Well, when Sally and I were walking home from school yesterday …

The first police officer turned to his partner and said, Were outta here!


I just bought a new ‘Lesbian Bed’ from Ikea. Instructions say no nuts or screwing involved. It’s all tongue and groove.


A minister concluded that his church was getting into serious financial troubles. While checking the church storeroom, he discovered several cartons of new bibles that had never been opened and distributed.

So at his Sunday sermon, he asked for three volunteers from the congregation who would be willing to sell the bibles door-to-door for $10 each to raise the desperately needed money for the church.
Peter, Paul and Louie all raised their hands to volunteer for the task. The minister knew that Peter and Paul earned their living as salesmen and were likely capable of selling some bibles.

But he had serious doubts about Louie who was a local farmer, who had always kept to himself because he was embarrassed by his speech impediment. Poor Louis stuttered badly. But, not wanting to discourage Louis, the minister decided to let him try anyway.

He sent the three of them away with the back seat of their cars stacked with bibles. He asked them to meet with him and report the results of their door-to-door selling efforts the following Sunday.

Anxious to find out how successful they were, the minister immediately asked Peter, “Well, Peter, how did you make out selling our bibles last week?”

Proudly handing the reverend an envelope, Peter replied, “Using my sales prowess, I was able to sell 20 bibles, and here’s the $200 I collected on behalf of the church.”

“Fine job, Peter!” The minister said, vigorously shaking his hand. “You are indeed a fine salesman and the Church is indebted to you.”

Turning to Paul, “And Paul, how many bibles did you sell for the church last week?”

Paul, smiling and sticking out his chest, confidently replied, “I am a professional salesman. I sold 28 bibles on behalf of the church, and here’s $280 I collected.”

The minister responded, “That’s absolutely splendid, Paul. You are truly a professional salesman and the church is also indebted to you.”

Apprehensively, the minister turned to Louie and said, “And Louie, did you manage to sell
any bibles last week?”

Louie silently offered the minister a large envelope. The reverend opened it and counted the contents.

“What is this?” the minister exclaimed. “Louie, there’s $3200 in here! Are you suggesting that you sold 320 bibles for the church, door to door, in just one week?”

Louie just nodded.

“That’s impossible!” both Peter and Paul said in unison. “We are professional salesmen, yet you claim to have sold 10 times as many bibles as we could.”

“Yes, this does seem unlikely,” the minister agreed. “I think you’d better explain how you managed to accomplish this, Louie.”
Louie shrugged. “I-I-I- re-re-really do-do-don’t kn-kn-know f-f-f-for sh -sh-sh-sure,” he stammered.

Impatiently, Peter interrupted. “For crying out loud, Louie, just tell us what you said to them when they answered the door!”

“A-a-a-all I-I-I s-s-said wa-wa-was,” Louis replied, “W-w-w-w-would y-y-y-you l-l-l-l-l-like t-t-to b-b-b-buy th-th-th-this b-b-b-b-bible f-f-for t-t-ten b-b-b-bucks — o-o-o-or — wo-wo-would yo-you j-j-j-just l-like m-m-me t-t-to st-st-stand h-h-here and r-r-r-r-r-read it t-to y-y-you?”


A little boy got on the bus, sat next to a man reading a book, and noticed he had his collar on backwards. The little boy asked why he wore his collar that way. The man, who was a priest, said, “I am a Father” The little boy replied, “My Daddy doesn’t wear his collar like that”. The priest looked up from his book and answered, “I am the Father of many”. The boy said, “My Dad has 4 boys, 4 girls and two Grandchildren and he doesn’t wear his collar that way”. The priest, getting impatient, said, “I am the Father of hundreds” and went back to reading his book. The little boy sat quietly thinking for a while, then leaned over and said, “Maybe you should wear your pants backwards instead of your collar”.


It was the annual homecoming dance at the local high school gym. Most of the young folk were out on the dance floor but a few young men and women lined the sides of the gym, hoping for a dance partner to ask them out onto the dance floor.

After waiting anxiously for quite a while, a rather awkward freshman finally got up the nerve to ask a pretty junior for a dance at the homecoming.

She gave him the once-over and said, “Sorry, I won’t dance with a child.”

“Please forgive me,” responded the underclassman. “I didn’t realize you were pregnant.”


Now my fingers are seriously cramping.

Very good. Can't compete with that.

Gaffer's very fatigued and cognitively weary at the moment.

Likely cause is side effects of pills and potions for post-prostate cancer treatment and on-going rheumatoid arthritis. Plus the lack of co-ordination from the Zummerzet NHS of the remedial vitamins and nutrients to dampen down those side effects.

I'm closely involved in getting the pill popping regime up and running, including all the ones the NHS missed. So by the end of September we'll review and see where we are.

So the posts from the Gaffer might be a bit thinner on the ground for a little while.

I'll fill in with a few burps from time to time, but seem to have lost my Mojo for the Great Game in this, the summer silly season. The autumn should spark things off again when the great battle of our times gets into full swing!



Thank you SoD.
You have put my, and no doubt many another, mind at rest.
Tell the old Duffer we miss him. But recovery is the important thing.

Echo Doonhamer's sentiments.

SOD, give ma best wishes tae the Auld Yin.

I hope GoD (Gaffer of Duff) is better soon.

Give the old bloke my best wishes please.
And, just in case any of the woke brigade, who think full stops are aggressive, read this .....................!

Thank you all for your kind remarks and good wishes. Also, thanks to 'SoD' for keeping the show on the road.

This old age 'thingie' is a bugger - except when you consider the alternative!

"[E]xcept when you consider the alternative!"

My advice then David?

Do not be planning any visits to the Democrat-run city of Detroit anytime soon. They're inflating their statistics anyway they can!

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