No - not the Stag do ... this was the night before.
There I was walking back to the car after work. Time wise it's around about 10.30pm. Four teenagers are walking towards me - I'm guessing 14ish years old. Three walk past without a problem - the fourth purposely bangs his shoulder into me (I'm guessing he meant to go shoulder to shoulder however he was too short).
Anyway he starts mouthing off asking why I bumped into him. I smile, mainly in sympathy for his parents, and walk on back to the car at which point his little friend comes and gets him, turns him around and encourages him to carry on walking with them.
Now silly boy wasn't to know that I have never been in a fight in my life and if push came to shove I would more than like be the one being both pushed and shoved. But it just got me thinking that if silly boy had done that to someone else, someone who perhaps had been in fights and someone who might be slightly more highly strung with something more to prove than me his Friday night might not have gone the way he planned.
It's so depressing reading endless headlines of assaults and stabbings - of people making stupid split second decisions that change lives. We've all done silly things and like silly boy on Friday 99 percent of the time nothing happens as a result.
But if you're that 1 percent ....
See you tomorrow.
So here's the joke ...
A police officer made the mistake of arresting a judge who went to a party dressed as a convict.
The episode taught the cop a valuable lesson .... you can't book a judge by his cover.
Monday, 7 July 2008
Friday, 4 July 2008
An uncanny knack
I've had a particular talent since the age of six.
I know exactly how much food I have left without even counting or looking at it.
It all began with Pacer mints. Remember those? From the 1970's - spearmint and peppermint chews - one of my particular childhood favourites. Anyway off I'd go on a Friday afternoon or Saturday morning to spend my pocket money (can remember when it used to be 10p a week and I tell you what 10p would go a looong way back then). Burton Village stores used to get my trade and invariably packets of Pacers would be bought.
There'd I'd be happily chewing away - take one, unwrap it, packet back in pocket, sweet inserted into gob. And somehow, somewhere in my tiny brain I'd be keeping count. So if I went off and played Frisbee I'd know exactly how many I should still have - handy if you have two older brothers. I remember turning my bedroom upside down searching for the end of the packet because I knew I had a pacer left that I hadn't eaten. It took me hours (literally) with my mum telling me they'd all gone but I still knew there should be one left. And finally - after a lot of searching there it was - the single pacer in a rather dog eared looking packet.
It's a rare gift.
Anyway the reason I'm boring you with this is for the simple fact I know I have at least a quarter of a chocolate tarte currently waiting for me in my fridge.
Oh - and two fifths of a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer.
The weekend starts here ....
So here's the joke ...
A clown moved into an apartment block reserved solely for circus performers. He liked everything about the apartment. The kitchen was modern, the bedroom was comfortable and the lounge was spacious. And there were plenty of facilities - cooker, hoover, refrigerator, washing machine. The only thing that was missing was an ironing board, something on which he could press his circus uniform after washing it.
"Why is there no ironing board?" he asked the agent. "The lion tamer and the juggler have both got one."
"You use the window ledge, like the other clowns explained the agent - it's in your contract .... Every clown has a sill for ironing."
I know exactly how much food I have left without even counting or looking at it.
It all began with Pacer mints. Remember those? From the 1970's - spearmint and peppermint chews - one of my particular childhood favourites. Anyway off I'd go on a Friday afternoon or Saturday morning to spend my pocket money (can remember when it used to be 10p a week and I tell you what 10p would go a looong way back then). Burton Village stores used to get my trade and invariably packets of Pacers would be bought.
There'd I'd be happily chewing away - take one, unwrap it, packet back in pocket, sweet inserted into gob. And somehow, somewhere in my tiny brain I'd be keeping count. So if I went off and played Frisbee I'd know exactly how many I should still have - handy if you have two older brothers. I remember turning my bedroom upside down searching for the end of the packet because I knew I had a pacer left that I hadn't eaten. It took me hours (literally) with my mum telling me they'd all gone but I still knew there should be one left. And finally - after a lot of searching there it was - the single pacer in a rather dog eared looking packet.
It's a rare gift.
Anyway the reason I'm boring you with this is for the simple fact I know I have at least a quarter of a chocolate tarte currently waiting for me in my fridge.
Oh - and two fifths of a tub of vanilla ice cream in the freezer.
The weekend starts here ....
So here's the joke ...
A clown moved into an apartment block reserved solely for circus performers. He liked everything about the apartment. The kitchen was modern, the bedroom was comfortable and the lounge was spacious. And there were plenty of facilities - cooker, hoover, refrigerator, washing machine. The only thing that was missing was an ironing board, something on which he could press his circus uniform after washing it.
"Why is there no ironing board?" he asked the agent. "The lion tamer and the juggler have both got one."
"You use the window ledge, like the other clowns explained the agent - it's in your contract .... Every clown has a sill for ironing."
Thursday, 3 July 2008
"We really must ...."
How many times have you said that? Possibly to a friend, to family, to someone you haven't seen for ages and just bumped into on the street. How many times have you said "We really must meet up/go for a beer/have you over ...."
And how many times has it actually happened?
I had some new neighbours move in about six months ago. Said a cheery hello to them as they lumped their furniture from van to new home. Said they really should come over for a beer or something to eat. And how long did it take? Six months.
I am soooo rubbish.
And I can make all sorts of excuses about not having enough time or being too busy. But last night was great fun and they're both truly lovely people - subjected them to my cooking, plied them alcohol and even got the guitars out. Am fairly sure they enjoyed themselves although haven't seen them since. Anyway until I find out they're planning to sue me for too dull a night I'm thinking should have done it months ago.
And it got me thinking - next time there's a "we really must ..." situation why don't we all just set a proper date there and then.
No, really, we must ...
So here's the joke ...
The manager of an old people's home decides to hire an animal act to entertain everyone at the home's annual tea party. He calls a theatrical agent and asks what sort of acts he has on offer.
"I've got a tiger," says the agent. "It does a high wire act and juggles plates."
"Too dangerous," replies the manager. "It might fall on someone or bite them."
"How about a performing seal?" asks the agent. "It can play musical instruments."
"Too noisy," replies the manager, "The old folk won't like it. What we need is something unusual but nice a sedate so it won't upset them."
"I know," says the agent. "How about Morris the gibbon. He's very quiet and all he does is card tricks."
"Sounds good," says the manager. "Let's try a mellow gibbon round the old folk's tea ..."
And how many times has it actually happened?
I had some new neighbours move in about six months ago. Said a cheery hello to them as they lumped their furniture from van to new home. Said they really should come over for a beer or something to eat. And how long did it take? Six months.
I am soooo rubbish.
And I can make all sorts of excuses about not having enough time or being too busy. But last night was great fun and they're both truly lovely people - subjected them to my cooking, plied them alcohol and even got the guitars out. Am fairly sure they enjoyed themselves although haven't seen them since. Anyway until I find out they're planning to sue me for too dull a night I'm thinking should have done it months ago.
And it got me thinking - next time there's a "we really must ..." situation why don't we all just set a proper date there and then.
No, really, we must ...
So here's the joke ...
The manager of an old people's home decides to hire an animal act to entertain everyone at the home's annual tea party. He calls a theatrical agent and asks what sort of acts he has on offer.
"I've got a tiger," says the agent. "It does a high wire act and juggles plates."
"Too dangerous," replies the manager. "It might fall on someone or bite them."
"How about a performing seal?" asks the agent. "It can play musical instruments."
"Too noisy," replies the manager, "The old folk won't like it. What we need is something unusual but nice a sedate so it won't upset them."
"I know," says the agent. "How about Morris the gibbon. He's very quiet and all he does is card tricks."
"Sounds good," says the manager. "Let's try a mellow gibbon round the old folk's tea ..."
Wednesday, 2 July 2008
Now with added value
Am typing this whilst lying in a darkened room.
We've decided rather than less is more - definitely more is more. As a result the good ship Jon Cuthill Show's boilers are being stoked to the max. If it's local it's on - rack 'em and stack 'em and it seems to be working a treat.
All I'm going to say is ragwort, faulty life jackets, a man who's just made 40 million quid with a bit of watercress, man's bits and bacon baguettes.
An eclectic mix but proving it does all happen on the South coast.
However like any vintage classic this does mean I will require more regular oiling. Being across the news I am aware that a diet of excess oil is bad for you - however medical evidence seems to suggest that red wine should do the trick.
It's not all bad news ...
So here's the joke ...
Two weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to Hollywood and became a famous actor.
The other stayed behind in the cotton field and never amounted to much. The second one,
naturally, became know as the Lesser of Two Weevils ....
We've decided rather than less is more - definitely more is more. As a result the good ship Jon Cuthill Show's boilers are being stoked to the max. If it's local it's on - rack 'em and stack 'em and it seems to be working a treat.
All I'm going to say is ragwort, faulty life jackets, a man who's just made 40 million quid with a bit of watercress, man's bits and bacon baguettes.
An eclectic mix but proving it does all happen on the South coast.
However like any vintage classic this does mean I will require more regular oiling. Being across the news I am aware that a diet of excess oil is bad for you - however medical evidence seems to suggest that red wine should do the trick.
It's not all bad news ...
So here's the joke ...
Two weevils grew up in South Carolina. One went to Hollywood and became a famous actor.
The other stayed behind in the cotton field and never amounted to much. The second one,
naturally, became know as the Lesser of Two Weevils ....
Tuesday, 1 July 2008
Ireland beckons
I've never been to Ireland.
It's a bit lame, isn't it? I mean it's not like it's on the other side of the earth but there it is on my list of "places I've been meaning to visit but have yet to get round to". So come the weekend Dublin it is.
Granted it may not quite be the cultural experience you might be hoping for (stag do) but at least I'll get a taste of it and for once and for all put to bed the question "Does Guiness taste better in Ireland?" (It's a boy thing but once any of your mates go to Ireland for the next five years every time you go down the pub they'll bang on about how a pint of the black stuff doesn't taste as good as it did over there ... yawn - although saying that come the weekend I may too become an Ireland bore).
Played footie last night up in Romsey. Scored a solid header to get the ball rolling so to speak and then spent the rest of the game forcing myself to run the length of the pitch. Only problem was by the time I got up to the box I was to knackered to score and spent most of the evening missing the perfectly sized goal right in front on me.
As for TP - I'm not even talking to him. I ran the entire length of the pitch into space (quite a feat for a 37 year only whose mid life crisis is fast approaching - see timer) only for him to totally ignore my efforts and pass the ball to their keeper. Well I can only assume it was a pass to save his complete embarrassment. A shot it was not. Stevo's legs gave up (both of them) so he retreated to goal. Tommy gave a solid midfield performance with his trademark blockbuster tackles. Put it this way - he's never going to play basketball - but it's like being hit by a wall (in a nice - non yellow card way). Another fine performance from team BBC.
Not that I'm obsessed but long range forecasts are showing some good surf for the weekend.
You'll have to tell me all about it though as I'll be tasting Irish hospitality.
Will stick the joke on tomorrow - am at home and can't quite remember it without looking at the show's scripts (yes - I know - I do sound a shambles but they do give me scripts sometimes).
It involved a larger lady, a toilet seat and a doctor but I don't want to ruin it.
Laters potatas.
So here's the joke ...
A woman had been advised by her doctor to go on a strict diet but she couldn't discipline herself and would spend most of the day raiding the fridge. As her weight ballooned, one day she got stuck on the lavatory seat. " Jim, Jim!" she called to her husband. " The lavatory seat's stuck to my bottom. Fetch the doctor!"
The husband asked the doctor to come round as soon as he could but didn't explain what the problem was. In the meantime, the husband managed to remove the seat from the toilet bowl but it was still wedged fast to his wife's backside. He suggested she go and kneel on the bed until the doctor arrived.
When the doctor showed up, the husband showed him straight into the bedroom where his wife was kneeling with her back to the door. "What do you think, doc?" asked the husband ...
"I think it's nice," replied the doctor, "but why such a cheap frame?"
It's a bit lame, isn't it? I mean it's not like it's on the other side of the earth but there it is on my list of "places I've been meaning to visit but have yet to get round to". So come the weekend Dublin it is.
Granted it may not quite be the cultural experience you might be hoping for (stag do) but at least I'll get a taste of it and for once and for all put to bed the question "Does Guiness taste better in Ireland?" (It's a boy thing but once any of your mates go to Ireland for the next five years every time you go down the pub they'll bang on about how a pint of the black stuff doesn't taste as good as it did over there ... yawn - although saying that come the weekend I may too become an Ireland bore).
Played footie last night up in Romsey. Scored a solid header to get the ball rolling so to speak and then spent the rest of the game forcing myself to run the length of the pitch. Only problem was by the time I got up to the box I was to knackered to score and spent most of the evening missing the perfectly sized goal right in front on me.
As for TP - I'm not even talking to him. I ran the entire length of the pitch into space (quite a feat for a 37 year only whose mid life crisis is fast approaching - see timer) only for him to totally ignore my efforts and pass the ball to their keeper. Well I can only assume it was a pass to save his complete embarrassment. A shot it was not. Stevo's legs gave up (both of them) so he retreated to goal. Tommy gave a solid midfield performance with his trademark blockbuster tackles. Put it this way - he's never going to play basketball - but it's like being hit by a wall (in a nice - non yellow card way). Another fine performance from team BBC.
Not that I'm obsessed but long range forecasts are showing some good surf for the weekend.
You'll have to tell me all about it though as I'll be tasting Irish hospitality.
Will stick the joke on tomorrow - am at home and can't quite remember it without looking at the show's scripts (yes - I know - I do sound a shambles but they do give me scripts sometimes).
It involved a larger lady, a toilet seat and a doctor but I don't want to ruin it.
Laters potatas.
So here's the joke ...
A woman had been advised by her doctor to go on a strict diet but she couldn't discipline herself and would spend most of the day raiding the fridge. As her weight ballooned, one day she got stuck on the lavatory seat. " Jim, Jim!" she called to her husband. " The lavatory seat's stuck to my bottom. Fetch the doctor!"
The husband asked the doctor to come round as soon as he could but didn't explain what the problem was. In the meantime, the husband managed to remove the seat from the toilet bowl but it was still wedged fast to his wife's backside. He suggested she go and kneel on the bed until the doctor arrived.
When the doctor showed up, the husband showed him straight into the bedroom where his wife was kneeling with her back to the door. "What do you think, doc?" asked the husband ...
"I think it's nice," replied the doctor, "but why such a cheap frame?"
Monday, 30 June 2008
Ola!
Well done Spain!
Quality. I am ten pounds the richer and Producer Claudia is up five quid as she had Germany in the sweep stake. So as sweep stakes go it's celebrations all round on the show today. It might even distract them from taking the mickey out of my ever so slightly toasted head.
In my defence there is a reason.
This weekend was the first time the new surf board got an outing and it's fantastic! It took a while to get used to it but am slowing learning what it likes to do and when. And it fitted perfectly on top of my silly car with the new soft rack. Off I trotted to Boscombe where I spent far too long splashing around, in the process swallowing gallons of the English Coast and occasionally surfacing wearing my new seaweed toupee.
In the short too long in the sun - not enough sun cream. Silly boy.
Anyway another exciting episode in my showbiz, rock and roll lifestyle - I went sock shopping at the weekend. Why read other blogs when you can read sockshopperblog.com.
I've had enough of holes in my socks. For some inexplicable reason more or less every right sock I have has a hole in and I have no idea why. I've looked at my right foot several times and there's nothing odd about it. For example I don't have one toe bigger than the rest. Anyway it's got so bad that I decided to throw all holy socks out only to find I only had about 3 pairs left.
Hence my bulk purchase of socks but wow! How expensive!?!?! I mean anyway it's not like anyone actually gets to see them. I know everyone is moaning about the price of petrol but .... it's socks that are really driving inflation up!!
Get me the Times.
And just for the record today's are stripey blues and black. Pretty cool (as far as socks go)
So here's the joke ...
A vicar offers Harry five hundred pounds to paint his church. Harry buys some paint and starts working but he discovers he's using more paint than he expected.
Harry adds some thinner to the paint to make it last but finds he's still using too much, so he adds yet more thinner.
The pain is now too thin to use properly, but Harry carries on regardless.
Suddenly there's a crack of thunder and a voice booms out from the clouds ....
"Harry, repaint and thin no more!"
Quality. I am ten pounds the richer and Producer Claudia is up five quid as she had Germany in the sweep stake. So as sweep stakes go it's celebrations all round on the show today. It might even distract them from taking the mickey out of my ever so slightly toasted head.
In my defence there is a reason.
This weekend was the first time the new surf board got an outing and it's fantastic! It took a while to get used to it but am slowing learning what it likes to do and when. And it fitted perfectly on top of my silly car with the new soft rack. Off I trotted to Boscombe where I spent far too long splashing around, in the process swallowing gallons of the English Coast and occasionally surfacing wearing my new seaweed toupee.
In the short too long in the sun - not enough sun cream. Silly boy.
Anyway another exciting episode in my showbiz, rock and roll lifestyle - I went sock shopping at the weekend. Why read other blogs when you can read sockshopperblog.com.
I've had enough of holes in my socks. For some inexplicable reason more or less every right sock I have has a hole in and I have no idea why. I've looked at my right foot several times and there's nothing odd about it. For example I don't have one toe bigger than the rest. Anyway it's got so bad that I decided to throw all holy socks out only to find I only had about 3 pairs left.
Hence my bulk purchase of socks but wow! How expensive!?!?! I mean anyway it's not like anyone actually gets to see them. I know everyone is moaning about the price of petrol but .... it's socks that are really driving inflation up!!
Get me the Times.
And just for the record today's are stripey blues and black. Pretty cool (as far as socks go)
So here's the joke ...
A vicar offers Harry five hundred pounds to paint his church. Harry buys some paint and starts working but he discovers he's using more paint than he expected.
Harry adds some thinner to the paint to make it last but finds he's still using too much, so he adds yet more thinner.
The pain is now too thin to use properly, but Harry carries on regardless.
Suddenly there's a crack of thunder and a voice booms out from the clouds ....
"Harry, repaint and thin no more!"
Friday, 27 June 2008
Super Friday
Hurrah!
For a number of reasons.
Firstly well done Spain. Through to the finals of Euro 2008. Can't say I'd normally be that thrilled however when you happen to have a small piece of paper in your grubby mitts for the office Euro 2008 sweep stake that says "Spain" believe you me it gets exciting. Contain yourself but I have already won my pound back AND there's a chance of a tenner with my name on.
And the German's look distinctly wobbly. Yay! (Apologies to any German readers).
Secondly. Nearly home time.
Have spent the day feeling slightly "tired".
Am pretty sure it's a total coincidence but last night was the Big Bar Quiz downstairs and the post quiz debrief was quite lengthy. It would appear I was extremely thirsty last night. Luckily I found plenty to drink.
Unfortunately I forgot to take my contact lenses out post quiz and so am staring at the screen whilst typing on the basis that I can't actually close my eyes. Am fairly sure I heard a crunch last time I blinked. Very funny evening though. Still can't quite believe our Transport Correspondent actually knew Postman Pat's surname!?! Unbelievable.
Anyway looks like surf's up for the weekend and so off for another lesson and may actually take the board with the newly acquired soft rack.
Have decided to never drink again.
It's all go!!!
Have a great weekend.
So here's the joke ...
A man was driving along a country road when he saw a farmer standing in the middle of a huge field. The farmer wasn't doing anything and appeared to be staring blankly at nothing in particular.
"What are you doing?" called the driver.
"I'm trying to win a Nobel Prize," said the farmer.
"How's that?" asks the man.
"Well - I heard they give the Nobel Prize to people who are out standing in their field."
For a number of reasons.
Firstly well done Spain. Through to the finals of Euro 2008. Can't say I'd normally be that thrilled however when you happen to have a small piece of paper in your grubby mitts for the office Euro 2008 sweep stake that says "Spain" believe you me it gets exciting. Contain yourself but I have already won my pound back AND there's a chance of a tenner with my name on.
And the German's look distinctly wobbly. Yay! (Apologies to any German readers).
Secondly. Nearly home time.
Have spent the day feeling slightly "tired".
Am pretty sure it's a total coincidence but last night was the Big Bar Quiz downstairs and the post quiz debrief was quite lengthy. It would appear I was extremely thirsty last night. Luckily I found plenty to drink.
Unfortunately I forgot to take my contact lenses out post quiz and so am staring at the screen whilst typing on the basis that I can't actually close my eyes. Am fairly sure I heard a crunch last time I blinked. Very funny evening though. Still can't quite believe our Transport Correspondent actually knew Postman Pat's surname!?! Unbelievable.
Anyway looks like surf's up for the weekend and so off for another lesson and may actually take the board with the newly acquired soft rack.
Have decided to never drink again.
It's all go!!!
Have a great weekend.
So here's the joke ...
A man was driving along a country road when he saw a farmer standing in the middle of a huge field. The farmer wasn't doing anything and appeared to be staring blankly at nothing in particular.
"What are you doing?" called the driver.
"I'm trying to win a Nobel Prize," said the farmer.
"How's that?" asks the man.
"Well - I heard they give the Nobel Prize to people who are out standing in their field."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
