Wednesday, 25 June 2008
A driver is stuck in a traffic jam on the motorway. Nothing is moving. Suddenly a man knocks on the window.
The driver rolls down his window and asks, 'What's going on?'
'Terrorists down the road have kidnapped Gordon Brown, Alistair Darling, David Miliband and Jack Straw.
They're asking for a £10 million ransom.
Otherwise they're going to douse them with petrol and set them on fire.
We're going from car to car, taking up a collection.'
The driver asks, 'How much is everyone giving, on average?'
'Most people are giving about a gallon.'
Tuesday, 24 June 2008
"An unfortunate thing about Arlott,
And his confrere E.W. Swanton,
Is that one will rhyme only to 'harlot'
And the other to nothing but 'wanton'.
Are they greatly annoyed
If disciples of Freud
Have these omens employed
And their honour destroyed?
For there's nothing whatever suggestive in Arlott,
Or, of course, in his opposite number - that's Swanton."
When reminded of this, Anticant commented sourly that in these lily-livered days, libel writs would already be flying in the direction of the hapless poetess and her publishers.
Thursday, 12 June 2008
One of the joys of blogging is that one every now and then comes across fascinating nuggets of totally useless recondite information that boggle the mind.
Thus, from a commentator on Ken Frost’s “Nanny Knows Best” blog we learn that the borough of
“Imbeciles was the old name for those children that are borne from incestuous relationships. It is a little known fact that a certain area within the borough of wigan and leigh had the highest rate of imbeciles in the
This, as “Nanny’s” poster points out, amounts to a hate crime in itself, and one would imagine that there are now districts of Wigan and Leigh which the Hate Crimes Co-ordinator would be prudent to regard as personal no-go areas. I doubt whether this was the scenario George Orwell had in mind when he set out on the road to
Since reading this juicy item, Ben Trovato has been wandering around the Burrow composing a saucy limerick about the Incestuous Fathers of Wigan, muttering suitably vulgar rhymes to himself. He has been sternly forbidden by Dame Barbara to publish it here, on pain of her instant departure with her fictional flock of unravished virgins.