Archive for the ‘Humour’ Tag

Mavis And Ted *8*

 Mavis & Ted

Unfathomably Deep…


“You can see the sea from here…”

“Of course you can Ted!”

“No! I mean you can really see the sea!”

“Er… yeh… I see what you mean.”

“You do?”

“Sort of…”

“Deep and unfathomable…”


“The dark heart of an awesome primeval power…”

“You okay Ted?”

“If I was to go down the end of the pier and pee in it, then that would really be a drop in the ocean!”

“You have the fishcakes at lunch Ted?”


“You silly man, you know what greasy sea food does to your equilibrium”

“Doesn’t do much for my Irritable Bowel Syndrome either…”

“Deep and unfathomable?”

“More like awesome primeval power!”

“Oh dear…”


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Cat Litter 8


An armchair is always up to scratch as an alternative to the sofa !

The Man At The End Of The Bar (love hurts)

He’s of indeterminate age.  He resides in every pub and bar in the land.  An everyman with a pint glass.  He doesn’t appear to have any friends… unless they’ve all used the excuse of going to the toilet.  He’s a self-regarding oasis in an ocean of anomie.  This man is an island… He’s most definitely not a peninsula.  If he were the butterfly wings of chaos Sinking a pinttheory then heaven help what’s happening on the other side of the world.  If there really is six degrees of separation to Kevin Bacon – then he’s number seven.  If all famous rock bands have an unlucky early member who leaves prior to them making it big – then it wasn’t him.  If he had a makeover no-one would notice – because no-one would remember what he originally looked like.  His sole purpose in life is to make comment on conversations he isn’t involved in; to people he doesn’t know; while delivering his wisdom to an audience of none.  He offers his opinions regardless.  Without thought.  Or fear.  Or favour.  Or reason.  His only obvious social skill is setting a tumbleweed of indifference adrift among a desert of silent disbelieving looks.  Who said that?!

The Man at the end of the bar


“You’re quiet tonight…”


“I said you’re quiet tonight…”


“Let me guess… women?”

“How’d you know?!”

“It’s about the only thing that keeps you quiet.”

“She says I’ve really upset her Dave…”

“How come?”

“She says I’ve alienated her…”


“I told her that’s just bloody ridiculous – the new X-Files is only six episodes long and I didn’t watch ’em all at once!”


“Looks like she’s gonna leave me; just like all the rest…”


“I’m just devastated Dave…”


“Do you think she still cares?”

“Remember… they do say; you always hurt the one you love…”

“Yeh… you could be right…”

“Either that; or you always love the ones who hurt you…”

“I spose so…”

“Or was it… you always love the ones who love to hurt you?”

“So ya think she still loves me then Dave?”

“Mind you; it could have been you always love the hurt from love and that’s why you love the ones who love to hurt you?”

“Er…. just put another one in there will you Dave?”

Mavis And Ted *7*

 Mavis & Ted

Old Film…


“What you thinkin’ Ted?”

“Eh? Wot?”

“I said… what you thinkin’ Ted?”

“Oh, just that when I was young I used to see life in technicolour… now it’s all grainy black and white…”

“Yeh, I know what you mean… everythin’ in life’s a bit like a foreign film these days… reality TV, internet shoppin’, same sex marriage; girls wiv tattoos…”

“What girl in the news?”

“I said… girls wiv tattoos!”

“She got married in some foreign film you say?”


That girl in the news…”

“I wish life was a foreign film sometimes…”


“Coz they got ruddy subtitles… that’s why!!”

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Hitler – A Text From History

 Downcast Hitler

“Is there a problem Mein Führer?!”

“I don’t understand it! Why does no-one put LOL in their messages from the Russian Front anymore?!”

Men and Sex – A Price Worth Paying

Two Businessmen Drinking“You still going out with that Tiffany?”


“No?!  I thought you’d set her up in her own flat in the West End?!”

“I did…”

“Also that little country cottage near Falmouth?”


“And didn’t you provide her with an American Express Platinum card with no upper limit?”

“That’s right…”

“Then there was that boutique nail bar she always wanted – oh, and those night club premises so she could, what was it… ‘follow her dream’?”


Also that exclusive gym membership, the personal trainer, the charge account at Harrods, the new sports car, and of course – wasn’t there that little run around for her mother as well?”

“Sure was…”

“Oh, and didn’t you take her to Rome and Sydney… er, and New York and Las Vegas too?”

“Yeh, and Cape Town… all club class flights, all at top first class hotels, all in the last year…”

“Woooh… So what happened?!”

“She left me…”

“After all that?!”

“Yeh, and the rest…”

“There’s more?!”

“Tip of the iceberg..”

“All gone?!”

“Yeh, all cashed in – or cashed out…”

“Wow… Did she say why?!”

“She went off with someone richer…”

“No warning?”

“Just a post it note when I came back from a conference one evening…”

“Scheming little bitch!


Bloody hell!”

“I know…”

“Out of the blue you say?”

“Yeh… I’d just given her a few thousand spending money the night before…”

“Jee-zus… All that… What on earth did you get out of it, fer chrissakes?!”

“A permanent hard-on for a year…”

“Oh, right…”


“She was hot though, wasn’t she?”

“A total hottie…”

“Lovely girl deep down…”

“Yeh, lovely…”





Cat Litter 7


It’s a dog’s life… and they deserve it!

The Executioner’s Song

two hangmen


“What do I listen to?  Oh, dance music mainly…

Yeh… I’m quite partial to a tune from Calvin Harris or Skrillex… one with a good ‘drop’…”

Mavis And Ted *6*

Mavis & Ted

Junk In The Trunk…




“Do you still love me Ted?”


“I said, do you still love me Ted?”

“Er, yeh… of course… yeh…”

“Same as when we first met?”

“Same as when we first met…”

“As deep as the deep blue sea?”


“As deep as the deep blue sea?”

“As deep as the deep blue sea…”

“More and more each day?”

“More and more each day…”

“With every beat of your heart?”

“Yeh, with every beat of my heart…”





“Do you still fancy me though?”

“Yeh, I still fancy you…”

“Have I still got it?”

“You’ve still got it…”

“How about the junk in my trunk?”

“You been hangin’ around them kids at that burger bar on the front again?!”

“In all the right places?”

“Yeh, in all the right places… mind you, there are places on your places now…”

“What was that Ted?”

“In all the right places…”



“So I’m still your girl then?”

“You’re still my girl…”

“All the fun of the fair?”

“All the fun of the fair…”

“Forever and ever?”

“Forever and ever…”













Did You Sleep With Her?

Euphemistically Speaking…

Under the duvet

Did you sleep with her?


Sleep with her?…


That pair have been slapping against each other like an open wicket gate banging an oak post on a stormy night.  They’ve fused for so long you couldn’t peel them apart even if you could call upon the sexual aid of the most anal of temperance police wielding hardwood truncheons to beat them into submission.  You’d have more luck with pulling off two sticky buns bonding in a rubber sack in a heatwave or separating an insole from a marathon runner’s trainer after the longest of sweaty sessions.  A Premiership footballer, however injury prone, has never received such matchless close attention to his groin area.  In the soft velvet, deep liquid black of night they hit grey shade number fifty and started all over again; their prolonged exchange of bodily fluids putting eager virgin donors at the local blood bank to shame as their copulating countdown to daylight commenced. Then, as the orange glow of the rising sun stretched its probing fingers into the gentle rise and fall of their weary trembling buttocks, mother nature’s warming aphrodisiac that was pregnant with the delights of the day explored their bodies fleetingly, unsure as to whether it had simply come prematurely.  A bawdy milkman on his round of housewives – if he hadn’t already been shafted from behind by predominant supermarket forces – would have spilled his cartons of full fat cream in shock, each popping provocatively at the lust-filled whoops, moans, howls and groans that ejaculated carelessly up into the morning air.  In response, blackbird, thrush and tit alike had fought their feelings of inadequacy since grey shade twenty-five marked halfway ticket on their coital return journey from orgasm junction; coy mating calls proving a poor passion play in penetrating the eternal suburban rhythm of twisted bedspring and headboard.  No match for a dawn chorus of congress that spat hormones, DNA, determined emissions and the odour of uncontrolled urges from loose-limbs stretched in a duck down duvet of strangled inhibitions.  And as for the neighbours?  Oh, they slumped exhausted hours ago, drifting on an uneasy compromise of shattered consciousness and exposure, their minds contorted by vivid images of unclothed, everyday acquaintances rampantly auditioning for Porn Hub and fraught with the gestation pains of RSI from incessantly banging on the bedroom party wall – frustratingly all to no avail…


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