Private Thread - Keep Out!

Dorsetmike

Member
Bed time prayers

A Woman’s Prayer

Before I lay me down to sleep
I pray for a man who’s not a creep
One who’s handsome, smart and strong.
One who loves to listen long,
One who thinks before he speaks,
One who’ll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he’s rich and self employed,
And when I spend, won’t be annoyed.
Pull out my chair and hold my hand.
Massage my feet and help me stand.
Oh send a King to make me Queen.
A man who loves to cook and clean.
I pray this man will love no other,
And relish visits with my mother.

A Man’s Prayer

Before I lay me down to sleep
I pray for a deaf-mute gymnastic
Nymphomaniac with big t*ts who
Owns a bar on a golf course, and
Loves to send me fishing and drinking.
This doesn’t rythme and I don’t give a ****.
 

marval

New member
Good ones Mike.


Here is a tale to remind all women never to jilt a man.

Written by Graeme King

A cowboy walked into a bar and slumped upon a stool,
he threw a large tequila down and said: "I've been a fool!
Eliza Jane had promised me that I would be the one -
and now I find she's walking out with Jake the banker's son!"

A gambler drinking whisky heard his story and was moved,
he said: "I've loved a lot of girls, and this one thing I've proved:
They promise you a life of joy, of love and laughs and song,
then leave - the very instant someone better comes along!"

The guy at the piano said: "I loved this girl in Maine,
she had a smile and figure that would drive a man insane,
I asked the question, she said yes, but never said 'I do'
she left me for a guy who played guitar and fiddle, too!"

"My sweet Marie," the barman said, "so pretty, young and clean,
we planned to make our future somewhere west of Abilene,
I went off on a cattle drive and left her all our dough,
she ran off with some outlaw - they're still down in Mexico."

The Sheriff moseyed over, "Love ain't all it's said to be,
I fell in love when I was young and just a deputy,
I sold my horse to buy her stuff, to dress her up in furs,
but then she wed some other guy 'cause he had bigger spurs!"

The cowboy bought them all a drink - they toasted single life,
the guy at the piano sang about a cheating wife,
a few drinks more and every man inside the bar was mad,
and cursing every girl on Earth for treating them so bad.

The bar doors slowly opened and a pretty girl stepped in,
she batted huge black lashes and flashed all the men a grin:
"Well, hello, boys, I'm Rita-Mae, and I've just moved to town,"
a dozen six-guns fired at once, and cut the woman down.

It seems she hadn't noticed that no females were around,
they all live out on Garter Hill, and six feet under ground,
oh yes, the West was wild, and quite dangerous back then,
she never should have came to Stag - the town of jilted men.
 

Corno Dolce

Admiral Honkenwheezenpooferspieler
Hello GrandDame Margaret,

A jilted man - A woman scorned - Hell hath no fury like either.

N.B. The above just caught on Gypsy Radio aka Jungle Telegraph aka Grapevine.

Cheers,

CD :tiphat::tiphat::tiphat:
 

jhnbrbr

New member
Anti-verbosity

I once came across some admirably concise language in an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and yes, I know it's supposed to be a kids' programme!) Owing to her vampire termination duties, Buffy was forced to skip a lesson at school, and was anxious about whether the teacher had noticed. So she said to her friend "Did he notice I was tardy?" Clearly, this was an inappropriate use of the word tardy which the friend then needed to point out to Buffy. She managed to do this using just three words:

tardy people show

Maybe this proves that American English is superior to English English, because I don't think many Brits use show in quite that way, so we would say it, less elegantly, as

tardy people show up

I believe the people of Vermont are famous for their economy with words. There was the story of the old man who was always to be seen sitting on his porch. One day, a passing neighbour shouted to him "Hey! Have you been sitting on that porch all your life?" to which he simply replied "Not yet."
 
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jhnbrbr

New member
... and why I never touch the stuff

In the early 1990's my companion and I took a holiday in the Islands of Orkney. When we'd finished exploring all of the lovely beaches and amazing historical sites, we decided to take a guided tour around the Highland Park whiskey distillery at Kirkwall. We went round in a group of 8 or so, with a charming local girl as our guide. Almost immediatley a cat wandered across our path, and the guide explained that he too was an important member of staff at the distillery - responsible for pest control. First we saw where the barley was unloaded, then the tanks in which it was soaked for a few days, and then we went into the malting house where the soaked barley was spread out on the floor in a thick layer. I think the guide was in the middle of showing us the large shovels used for turning the barley, when who should walk in but the cat. Quite unperturbed by having an audience, he proceeded to hollow out a depression in the barley with his paws, then squatted down and did his dirty business right in front of us! Our guide never batted an eyelid. "Of course, there's no health hazard whatsoever," she explained, "because everything is distilled." I'm sure she was right, but it wasn't exactly what we expected to see. Anyway, if someone gives you a bottle of Highland Park for Christms, and you're wondering what gives it its distinctive flavour - now you'll know!
 

Dorsetmike

Member
Sounds not unlike making good scrumpy (powerful rough cider), if enough rats don't fall in the vat and drown, they throw in a side of beef
 

jhnbrbr

New member
Sounds more humane than Warfarin, Mike. At least the rats die happy. That reminds me in turn of a well-known Irish joke:

Dear Son
I'm sorry to tell you your father fell into a vat of whiskey at the distillery and drowned. His workmates tried to save him, but he fought them off bravely ...
 

marval

New member
Sorry John, bnut I thimk I will give Highland Park a miss this Christmas. I have heard the Irish joke.

Beef in the Scrumpy Mike? Well better than rats.


A: What is the fastest way to get stoned ?
B: Whisky on the rocks.


A farmer’s wife, who was rather stingy with her whisky, was giving her shepherd a drink. As she handed him his glass, she said it was extra good whisky, being fourteen years old. “Weel, mistress,” said the shepherd regarding his glass sorrowfully, “It's very small for its age.”


Margaret
 

jhnbrbr

New member
That's the spirit, Margaret! :D Also reminds me of the Scottish town where the residents all lined the streets holding up empty glasses. The reason? The weather forecast predicted there would be a nip in the air.
 

jhnbrbr

New member
The quickest way to get constipated too. Oh sorry, we don't say that anymore, do we? I meant the quickest way to suffer from slow digestive transit, of course.
 

marval

New member
Thanks John, I like Enya.

I am not drinking wet cement Mike.

Well you know what Mark Twain said about whiskey.

"Too much of anything is bad, but too much of good Whiskey is barely enough.


Margaret
 

Dorsetmike

Member
Margaret picked up a spelling slip on another thread, I find the spelling and grammar quite good here compared to some forums (fora? plural?) I think possibly this extract takes some beating.

We only have about 17 miles of dual carridgeway
blush.gif
and dispite the flatness of the land we have very few stright roads due to ainchent land boundries, blind corners and hidden dips.

At least he does admit his shortcomings in his sig

Spelling is to people what flying is to birds. In that respect, I am a penguin.
 

Corno Dolce

Admiral Honkenwheezenpooferspieler
Hi Dorsetmike,

Drinking wet cement, eh? That would make ones head all mixed up and permanently set(like a liberal) :lol::lol::lol:
 

marval

New member
I am glad he admitted his short comings Mike.

I hop that mi speling is beter than his, if knot I wil hav to go bak to skool.


Margaret
 
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