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Now This Just Isn't Funny

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I think this one works even if you can't read the captions :)

Rooie_38_26.jpg
 
I think this one works even if you can't read the captions :)

1. Hello, beauty, sit down here, we’ll start immediately!
2. Good! On your hands and feet please!
3. Right! Now just look a bit to the left! That’s it!
4. A good facial expression! That’s the most important!
5. Now you must try to look as a wild leopard! Do you get it? Very good!
6. Bite on your lip! Yes! Good! Very good!
7. That will be a super shot! Don’t move now!
8. Oh yeah!
 
Q: What's the difference between a dead snake on
the road and a dead lawyer on the road?
A: Skid marks in front of the snake.


A Lawyer dies in his sleep and arrives at the Pearly Gates.
He asks St Peter "Why am I here? I thought I was healthy, what did I die of?
St Peter checks his clip-board and replies "Old age."
The lawyer says "Old age?? I'm 36!!"
St Peter looks dubiously at the lawyer: "According to your hours billed you're 114."
 
Remembering back to when I was a “young” man ’1962-’63…. there was a brilliant satire programme
on the BBC (believe it or not) called “That Was The Week That Was” or TW3 as it came to be known.

It rapidly gained a reputation for the demolition of Politicians and the Establishment in general, they
actually broadcast items that others only dared to think.

The most amazing group of writers came up with both serious and funny items at the drop of a hat,
the most memorable of which was the song “In the Summer of his Years” written overnight after the
assassination of JFK and performed the following day on the show by Millicent Martin.
It was later recorded by such notable performers as Mahalia Jackson and Connie Francis among
others (all available on You Tube)

I recently remembered snatches of a comedy sketch referring to the housewives of Camberley who
had a reputation for, shall we say, an interest in Tradesmen. The local Council actually sent a memo
warning their staff of the situation ….. after a long search I finally found it on the Web ….

“The Ballad of Camberley Kate” was written by Bill Oddie of "The Goodies" … yes, the bearded bird watcher
who is and always has been a very clever comedian.


THE BALLAD OF CAMBERLEY KATE

In the street of a thousand prefabs, by the sign of the Swinging Pan,
Lived an amorous wife, who blighted the life, out of many a maintenance man,
She was long past her prime, she was ravaged by time, and the workmen who served the estate,
But none could resist, she was top of the list, and her name was Camberley Kate.

Now Camberley Kate would wait by the gate, for the workmen on wash day each week,
Then she'd open it wide and pull them inside, and show them her scrubbing technique,
She was old, she was grey, but she had a way with a brush, that made tradesmen yearn,
She give ‘em a shock just by ironing a sock, but she asked for much more in return,
For her favours were bought with a pint or a quart, or a couple of hundredweight,
And though workmen did try, they could not satisfy, the demands of Camberley Kate.

Now the council knew Kate always kept up a rate, so they thought they should keep up with hers,
One workmen a day, wouldn't keep her away, they decided to send them in pairs,
They sent them by ones, they sent them by twos, they sent them by threes and by four,
Then they called in the army and sent in platoons, they came back defeated and slightly depleted,
And still Kate was screaming for more.

It was Saturday night in the town Hall and the council were deep in prayer,
When the door bell rang with a thunderous clang, that nearly deafened the mayor,
And in walked a chap in a filthy cloth cap, who said I’ll do the trick,
In a dirty old mac, with a bin on his back, they knew it was Dustman Dick.

Now Dustman Dick, just out the Nick, was sent to call on Kate,
She threw back the door and she let out a roar, as he stood by the garden gate,
But Dustman Dick was far from thick, he knew how he should start,
He stepped aside so Kate espied his ruddy great refuse cart,
His joy and his pride, it was 15 foot wide, 20 horsepower and 13 foot tall,
With a squeak of glee, Kate said that's for me, so he drove it right through the wall.

For forty days and forty nights Dick laboured but in vain,
As he emptied each bin with a hideous grin, she filled ‘em right up again,
When it seemed he would drop with a flick of her mop, Kate inspired him back to action,
He tried and he tried but they both went and died, and Kate never had satisfaction.

In the street of a thousand prefabs, now the wives are back to complaining,
For the maintenance men never show, when you feel like a bit of maintaining,
And the housewives sigh for the days gone by, when the workmen were never late,
It was thanks to her, they had more than their share, and her name was Camberley Kate.
 
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Remembering back to when I was a “young” man ’1962-’63…. there was a brilliant satire programme
on the BBC (believe it or not) called “That Was The Week That Was” or TW3 as it came to be known.

It rapidly gained a reputation for the demolition of Politicians and the Establishment in general, they
actually broadcast items that others only dared to think.

The most amazing group of writers came up with both serious and funny items at the drop of a hat,
the most memorable of which was the song “In the Summer of his Years” written overnight after the
assassination of JFK and performed the following day on the show by Millicent Martin.
It was later recorded by such notable performers as Mahalia Jackson and Connie Francis among
others (all available on You Tube)

I recently remembered snatches of a comedy sketch referring to the housewives of Camberley who
had a reputation for, shall we say, an interest in Tradesmen. The local Council actually sent a memo
warning their staff of the situation ….. after a long search I finally found it on the Web ….

“The Ballad of Camberley Kate” was written by Bill Oddie of "The Goodies" … yes, the bearded bird watcher
who is and always has been a very clever comedian.


THE BALLAD OF CAMBERLEY KATE

In the street of a thousand prefabs, by the sign of the Swinging Pan,
Lived an amorous wife, who blighted the life, out of many a maintenance man,
She was long past her prime, she was ravaged by time, and the workmen who served the estate,
But none could resist, she was top of the list, and her name was Camberley Kate.

Now Camberley Kate would wait by the gate, for the workmen on wash day each week,
Then she'd open it wide and pull them inside, and show them her scrubbing technique,
She was old, she was grey, but she had a way with a brush, that made tradesmen yearn,
She give ‘em a shock just by ironing a sock, but she asked for much more in return,
For her favours were bought with a pint or a quart, or a couple of hundredweight,
And though workmen did try, they could not satisfy, the demands of Camberley Kate.

Now the council knew Kate always kept up a rate, so they thought they should keep up with hers,
One workmen a day, wouldn't keep her away, they decided to send them in pairs,
They sent them by ones, they sent them by twos, they sent them by threes and by four,
Then they called in the army and sent in platoons, they came back defeated and slightly depleted,
And still Kate was screaming for more.

It was Saturday night in the town Hall and the council were deep in prayer,
When the door bell rang with a thunderous clang, that nearly deafened the mayor,
And in walked a chap in a filthy cloth cap, who said I’ll do the trick,
In a dirty old mac, with a bin on his back, they knew it was Dustman Dick.

Now Dustman Dick, just out the Nick, was sent to call on Kate,
She threw back the door and she let out a roar, as he stood by the garden gate,
But Dustman Dick was far from thick, he knew how he should start,
He stepped aside so Kate espied his ruddy great refuse cart,
His joy and his pride, it was 15 foot wide, 20 horsepower and 13 foot tall,
With a squeak of glee, Kate said that's for me, so he drove it right through the wall.

For forty days and forty nights Dick laboured but in vain,
As he emptied each bin with a hideous grin, she filled ‘em right up again,
When it seemed he would drop with a flick of her mop, Kate inspired him back to action,
He tried and he tried but they both went and died, and Kate never had satisfaction.

In the street of a thousand prefabs, now the wives are back to complaining,
For the maintenance men never show, when you feel like a bit of maintaining,
And the housewives sigh for the days gone by, when the workmen were never late,
It was thanks to her, they had more than their share, and her name was Camberley Kate.

Sounds like our Dorothy!
 
WELSH HUMOUR (With apologies to DarkPrincess, who I hope will find it as funny as I did)

Dai had proposed to Megan and been accepted.

"But", added Megan,"before we get married I must tell you something about my past life."

"No," said Dai, "I won't hear of it. You can tell me after we're married."

After they were married and had set off for their honeymoon in Penarth, Megan again brought up the subject of her 'Secret'

"No," said Dai, "it can wait. Tell me when we're in bed together, that'll be soon enough."

That night as they got into bed Megan declared "Well, Dai, now I really do have to tell you my secret. You see, I'm a virgin."

Dai didn't say a word but put on his clothes and travelled all the way back to his mother's house.

"Dai!" said his mother, "what are you doing here, you're supposed to be on your honeymoon."

"It's no good", said Dai, "I've had to leave Megan; it turns out she's a virgin."

"Well, Dai," said his mother, "in that case you were quite right to come home. If she's not good enough for the rest of the village she's not good enough for you."
 
Another example of the way in which "TW3" dealt with things that people just didn't talk about .... although others pussyfooted around the subject, the stark realities of race prejudice in the deep south were brought to our attention in a shocking manner ...... This was five years BEFORE Martin Luther King was gunned down ......... (definitely not PC today)

 
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WELSH HUMOUR (With apologies to DarkPrincess, who I hope will find it as funny as I did)

Dai had proposed to Megan and been accepted.

"But", added Megan,"before we get married I must tell you something about my past life."

"No," said Dai, "I won't hear of it. You can tell me after we're married."

After they were married and had set off for their honeymoon in Penarth, Megan again brought up the subject of her 'Secret'

"No," said Dai, "it can wait. Tell me when we're in bed together, that'll be soon enough."

That night as they got into bed Megan declared "Well, Dai, now I really do have to tell you my secret. You see, I'm a virgin."

Dai didn't say a word but put on his clothes and travelled all the way back to his mother's house.

"Dai!" said his mother, "what are you doing here, you're supposed to be on your honeymoon."

"It's no good", said Dai, "I've had to leave Megan; it turns out she's a virgin."

"Well, Dai," said his mother, "in that case you were quite right to come home. If she's not good enough for the rest of the village she's not good enough for you."
Reminds me of a Benny Hill joke:

Definition of "Welsh rarebit".
A virgin in Cardiff.
 
Four-and-twenty virgins come down from Inverness,
And when the Ball was over, there were four-and-twenty less,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all..

There was doin' in the parlor, there was doin' on the stones,
But ya couldn't a hear the music for the wheezin' and the groans,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The undertaker, he was there, all wrapped up in a shroud,
Swingin' from the chandelier, and peein' on the crowd,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The village cripple, he was there, ah he could not do much,
So he lined the ladies against the wall, and he did 'em with his crutch,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

Miss Mary Mcpherson was standin' way up front,
Some posies in her hand, and a carrot in her cunt,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The Village postman, he was there, but the poor man had the pox,
He could not do the lassies, so he did the letter box,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The Village Magician, he was there, he gave us all a laugh,
He pulled his foreskin over his head, and he vanished up his ass,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.
 
Four-and-twenty virgins come down from Inverness,
And when the Ball was over, there were four-and-twenty less,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all..

There was doin' in the parlor, there was doin' on the stones,
But ya couldn't a hear the music for the wheezin' and the groans,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The undertaker, he was there, all wrapped up in a shroud,
Swingin' from the chandelier, and peein' on the crowd,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The village cripple, he was there, ah he could not do much,
So he lined the ladies against the wall, and he did 'em with his crutch,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

Miss Mary Mcpherson was standin' way up front,
Some posies in her hand, and a carrot in her cunt,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The Village postman, he was there, but the poor man had the pox,
He could not do the lassies, so he did the letter box,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The Village Magician, he was there, he gave us all a laugh,
He pulled his foreskin over his head, and he vanished up his ass,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The local plumber, he was there; he felt an awful fool:
He'd travelled forty miles, but he'd forgot to bring his tool.
 
Another example of the way in which "TW3" dealt with things that people just didn't talk about .... although others pussyfooted around the subject, the stark realities of race prejudice in the deep south were brought to our attention in a shocking manner ...... This was five years BEFORE Martin Luther King was gunned down ......... (definitely not PC today)



Ah, TW3, the first time this young'un realised that toffs could be parodied and were just as stupid as us country bumkins.
 
Four-and-twenty virgins come down from Inverness,
And when the Ball was over, there were four-and-twenty less,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all..

There was doin' in the parlor, there was doin' on the stones,
But ya couldn't a hear the music for the wheezin' and the groans,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The undertaker, he was there, all wrapped up in a shroud,
Swingin' from the chandelier, and peein' on the crowd,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The village cripple, he was there, ah he could not do much,
So he lined the ladies against the wall, and he did 'em with his crutch,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

Miss Mary Mcpherson was standin' way up front,
Some posies in her hand, and a carrot in her cunt,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The Village postman, he was there, but the poor man had the pox,
He could not do the lassies, so he did the letter box,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.

The Village Magician, he was there, he gave us all a laugh,
He pulled his foreskin over his head, and he vanished up his ass,

Singin' balls to your partner, your ass against the wall,
If ya never been had on a Saturday night, ya never been had at all.
Simply marvelous :clapping:
 
A hot woman had been convicted of serial unpaid parking tickets and was about to be bound naked to a Saint Andrew's Cross in public for two hours. She was wimpering at the upcoming pain and humiliation.

A guard seemed to have empathy. "Here!" he said, handing the woman an unwashed t-shirt.

The woman was so happy to have one scrap of dignity left in the agony that was upcoming that she hurriedly donned the T-shirt.

It was only when she had been hanging on the Saint Andre's Cross for half an hour that she noticed that guard, the other guards, and the public at large, not merely masturbating at her suffering, exposed crotch and hot legs, but also smirking and snickering. She saw that all of their eyes were directed at her tits. This puzzled her as the guard's t-shirt covered her tits. So she looked down...

"YOU FUCKER!" screamed out the woman in anger.

The t-shirt the guard gave her read "Fuckers crucified me and all I got was this lousy t-shirt."
 
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