Friday humour - July 11, 2003

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

          And it's that day of the week again,
    But most saddened to hear of the death last Wednesday of one of our CSIRO
    (ex-port) workshop guys, Jim Kubacki.  Jim was just 45 - and yet he went
    down with a fatal heart attack.

    We had a nice e-mail back in 1997 announcing the arrival of his (then)
    youngest daughter.  What can one say, or do, with events like this?
    Except maybe that life seems so fragile and .. finite.  I mention this
    here because I know many 'humourites' who've left CSIRO in the past
    10+ years would have known Jim from Port Melbourne (and Clayton).

    Eric Frazer broke the news to us late yesterday afternoon.  If you want
    any further news in the next cupla days, maybe get in touch with him.


    Okay - to the humour now, and first up - this amusing piece from Biggus:

                     TOP 20 WAYS TO SAY "YOUR FLY IS OPEN"

20. The cucumber has left the salad.

19. I can see the gun of Navarone.

18. Someone tore down the wall, and your Pink Floyd is hanging out.

17. You've got Windows in your laptop.

16. Sailor Ned's trying to take a little shore leave.

15. Your soldier ain't so unknown now.

14. Quasimodo needs to go back in the tower and tend to his bell.

13. Paging Mr. Johnson ... ... paging Mr. Johnson.

12. You need to bring your tray table to the upright and locked position.

11. Your pod bay door is open, Hal.

10. Elvis junior has LEFT the building!

9.  Mini Me is making a break for the escape pod.

8.  Ensign Hanes is reporting a hull breach on the lower deck, Sir!

7.  The Buick is not all the way in the garage.

6.  Dr. Kimble has escaped!

5.  You've got your fly set for "Monica" instead of "Hillary."

4.  Our next guest is someone who needs no introduction...

3.  You've got a security breach at Los Pantalones.

2.  I'm talking about Shaft, can you dig it?

          ... and the NUMBER ONE way of saying "Your Fly Is Open" is:

1.  I thought you were crazy, but now I can see your nuts.

        This little collection was passed on by Sarah Buckler about 12 months
        ago (August 2002) - enjoy:

                                 NEW BOOTS

An elderly couple, Dave and Bessie, are vacationing in the West.  Dave always
wanted a pair of authentic cowboy boots.  Seeing some on sale one day, he
buys them, wears them home, walking proudly.  He walks into their room and
says to the wife, "Notice anything different about me?"

Bessie looks him over, "Nope."

Dave says excitedly, "Come on Bessie, take a good look.  Notice anything
different about me?"

Bessie looks again, "Nope."

Frustrated Dave storms off into the bathroom, undresses, and walks back
into the room, wearing only his boots, saying a little louder this time,
"Notice anything DIFFERENT NOW?"

Bessie looks up and says, "Dave, what's different?  It's hanging down today,
it was hanging down yesterday, it'll be hanging down again tomorrow."


To which Bessie replied, "Shoulda bought a hat, Dave - shoulda bought a hat."


                      THE BEST LITTLE JOHNNY JOKE SO FAR!

Little April was not the best student in Sunday school.  Usually she slept
through the class.

One day the teacher called on her while she was napping, "Tell me, April,
who created the universe?"

When April didn't stir, little Johnny, a boy seated in the chair behind her,
took a pin and jabbed her in the rear. "GOD ALMIGHTY!" shouted April and
the teacher said, "Very good" and April fell back asleep.

A while later the teacher asked April, "Who is our Lord and Saviour,"

But, April didn't even stir from her slumber.

Once again, Johnny came to the rescue and stuck her again. "JESUS
CHRIST!" shouted April and the teacher said, "Very good," and April fell
back asleep.

Then the teacher asked April a third question.  "What did Eve say to Adam
after she had her twenty-third child?"

And again, Johnny jabbed her with the pin.  This time April jumped up and


An Italian man enters his favourite ritzy restaurant and while sitting at his
regular table , he noticed a gorgeous woman sitting at a table nearby ... all

He calls the waiter over and asks for their most expensive bottle of Merlot
to be sent over to her - knowing that if she accepts it, she is his.

The waiter gets the bottle and quickly sends it over to the girl, saying this
is from the gentleman.  She looks at the wine and decides to send a note over
to the man.

The note read: "For me to accept this bottle, you need to have a Mercedes
in your garage, a million dollars in the bank, and 7 inches in your pants!"

The man, after reading the note, sends one of his own back to her and it read:

"I have a Ferrari Testa Rosa, a BMW 850iL, and a Mercedes 560SEL in my garage;
and I have over twenty million dollars in the bank ..."

"But not even for a woman as beautiful as you would I cut off three inches.
 Send the bottle back, bitch!"

                   Now a quickie from Maria the Harding:

The Queen was showing the Archbishop of Canterbury around the Royal Stable,
when one of the stallions close by farted so loudly it couldn't be ignored.

"Oh dear," said the Queen, "How embarrassing.  I'm frightfully sorry about

"It's quite understandable," said the Archbishop.  After a moment, he added,
"As a matter of fact, I thought it was the horse."

       And just before the pics and flicks, let's head over to the Ol' West
       now for this contribution from JJ (Julian Johnson):


"I'm feeling all angry about these modern day footballers, I know why they
have gone all soft - It's because of poncy names.  That's what it is.

Remember the old days, when footy players kicked a f**king ball made out
of ten pound of clay stitched inside a steel-reinforced leather shell with
laces made out of piano wire?

Well, in them days, players could only survive the rigours of the game because
they were called things like Albert, Arthur, Bert, Harry, Bill, Eddie, Bob,
Jack and Tommy.  F**king tough names for tough men, them was!

And what do we have now?  Jason, Wayne, Dean, Ryan, Jamie, Robbie.  F**king
tarts' names, they are.  Great big f**king puffs.  No wonder the ball's like a
f**king balloon and shin pads is like slices of bread.  In the old days you
never saw a Len Shackleton or a Billy Wright with a puffy little Sondico
piece of paper down his little thin socks.  F**king shinpads in them days
was made out of library books, and socks was like sackcloth.

Same with the jerseys.  F**king shirts with holes in now so they can
breathe.  Yes, so that little Jody's hairless chest can breathe and he doesn't
get a chill.  F**k off.  Stanley Matthews used to dribble round Europe's finest
wearing a f**king tent and shorts cobbled together from the jacket of his
de-mob suit.  Aye, he f**king did.  No wonder players fall over all the time
whenever an opponent comes anywhere near them.

And they never used to show their arses at one another either.  Can you
imagine what might have happened if Don Revie had flashed his ring at Nat
Lofthouse during a City-Bolton Wanderers game?  He'd have got one of them
size 10 hobnail f**kers up his bastard chuff.

F**king therapy for stress my arse!  Stan Collymore slaps his missus about
and he takes three seasons off with stress counselling.  What the f**k is
that all about?  In the old days it was expected for footballers to belt
the old sow about a bit, specially after a bad defeat.  And the women used
to expect it, and so they should have.  They was lucky to be married to
footballers.  Ha!  Trevor Morley got a kitchen knife in his back off his wife
and was out of action for three month.  Soft twat.  Archie McShitt of Port
Vale got run over with horse and cart one Friday night and he still turned
out against Bradford the following day.  And he scored two goals.

That's cos his name wasn't "Trevor".  Good old Archie.  Broke his hip,
both his legs, murdered his wife and buried her under the patio and still
made the England team for the Home Internationals.  Did he have any "stress
counselling"?  Did he bollocks!

And drugs?  There was none of that in the old days.  Oh, no.  In them days
it was a quick shot of morphine before kick-off and you was lucky if you
got that.  By half-time it had all but wore off so they pumped you full of
laudanum.  None of this cocaine sniffing and shooting up class A narcotics.

Goal celebrations?  Don't talk to me about goal celebrations.  Crawling on
the floor and thrusting their hips at the crowd.  Huh!  I'd like to have seen
Cliff Bastin do that after a run down the left flank and crossing for Alex
James to fire home a winner.  Handshakes...and that was all you got, that
and a wank in the showers afterwards.  But it was a proper wank...all man
stuff.  None of these puffy wanks between blokes that you get nowadays with
players like Greame Le Saux and Stephen Gerrard.

Allegedly, In them days, there was nowt wrong with it cos it didn't mean
nowt.  They used to say there was a "gay atmosphere" in the dressing room
after the match.  But it didn't mean owt mucky.  Just a bit of harmless spanking
the plank among healthy young sportsmen.  Aye.  I know.  Me dad told me.

Sixty grand a f**king week!  Ha!  I wouldn't pay 'em tuppence.  Two bob Tommy
Lawton used to get...a month!  And Tom Finney still worked as a plumber four
days a week when he was playing for England.  It's true, you know.

F**king is.  Players had to work them days just to make up their money.  Not
like today.

Stan Pearson had to clean sewers and doubled up as Old Trafford shithouse
cleaner.  He had to go off during one game because some c**t had built a log
cabin and blocked the U-bend.  And that Eddie Hapgood was a male model...though
he never liked to talk about it.

So I say we start calling kids real male names again.  If you're having a kid,
don't even consider puffy names and shite names like what people call their
kids these days.  Otherwise what we gonna get in twenty years' time?

The England team full of players called Keanu, Ronan, Ashley and f**king
Chesney.  F**k that!  Call your kids Alf, Herbert, Len, Frank, Fred and
Wilf.  And let's get the puffs out of the game once and for all.

      Okay - to the pics.  First up, from Mad Mick in the UK, who writes:
      "Tony, I apologise for this one in advance ... it was sent to me by
      the Mayor of the Metropolis of Kington.  A normally level headed weed
      seller who must have flipped".  It has this intro:

So yesterday I was having some work done at the Ford dealer.  A woman, blonde
no less, came in and asked for a seven-hundred-ten.

We all looked at each other, and the mechanic asked, "What is a

She replied, "You know, the little piece in the middle of the engine, I lost
it and need a new one.  It had always been there."

The mechanic gave the woman a piece of paper and a pen and asked her to
draw what the piece looked like.  She drew a circle and in the middle of it
wrote 710.

He then took her over to another car which had the hood up and asked,
"Is there a 710 on this car?"

She pointed and said, "Of course, its right there."

Now open the photo to learn what a 710 is ... Click here

       Next, there was this little collection from German George:

BS tattoo: Click here
Ready: Click here
Oh No! Click here
Jingle jangle: Click here

           Andrew Smith found this site and passed it on ...

Space Virgins! Click here

       For the scientifically minded, Marshall Lanyon passed this on re
       "snow behaving like sand".  In Oz, a recent ABC program about "Scott
       of the Antarctic" mentioned that it was so cold on their return trek
       that the snow behaved like sand under the sleds, rather than becoming
       a thin film of water as melted by the sled's pressure.  Marshall had
       a look around and found a web site with the PT phase diagram for water,
       showing the point where ice can no longer be melted into water by
       pressure: Click here

       Here's another Don Martin (ex Mad Mag) from Pierre over in France:

Smart ape: Click here

                And Maria the H passed this cute one on:

French kissing: Click here

       Steve Sanetsis passed this movie on, but be warned - it is big (8Mb),
       and depending on your networking caching, may take some time to load:

Flying cars: Click here

       And from Kero tin this week, we received these:

What's he wearing? Click here
Ah, I see ... Click here
New fashion? Click here
Tell the whale! Click here

       Steve the Harding passed these on for your possible amusement ...

Fishing: Click here
Great race: Click here
New Energiser:  Click here


                     And Dave McCallum sent these over ...

Lovable cushion: Click here
Horse quartet:  Click here
Chase the mouse:  Click here
Make a mini-me from Lego!  Click here

       This last one is a radio programme I heard last weekend on the ABC
       here in Oz.  When you're in a quiet setting at home, sit back, put
       your feet up, and have a listen.  It's a fascinating tale from WW II
       about cat and mouse games between subs and ships as told from the actual
       diaries of some of the participants.

       Unfortunately, you will need the dreaded "Real(Virus)" player to listen
       to it.  If you'd like the far less intrusive RealPlayer (the good old
       version 7), just load it from Bluehaze - Click here

Fascinating radio stories of WWII and subs and things: Click here
The main page: Click here
Cupla pics: Click here

       Back to the textual stuff now, and this quickie from Ron Kerpen:

                         A FISH STORY by Donvaledon

There was man who lived in the far north where there were plenty of rivers and
lakes.  He was a great fisherman and he could catch fish with any bait he used.

He would use worms, flies, meat, pieces of bread, and bring in fish by the
dozen.  He didn't have much of a love life because he spent so much time
fishing.  He would go fishing for days at a time.  He found all kinds of bait
to use to land his catch.  The people in town all knew of his fishing exploits.

One day he went down to his favourite fishing hole down at the river and was
gone for days.  Some people in town decided to go look for him as they were
worried.  They finally found him laying dead on the sand with his cock in
his hand.

He was taken back to town and buried in the local cemetery and on his head
stone was written "Here Lies A Great Fisherman.  He Was A Master Baiter"

               And something else from Maria the Harding:

                            MORE CUTE KID STORIES

I was driving with my three young children one warm summer evening when
a woman in the convertible ahead of us stood up and waved.  She was stark
naked!  As I was reeling from the shock, I heard my five-year-old shout from
the back seat, "Look, mummy - that lady isn't wearing a seat belt!"


My son Zachary, 4, came screaming out of the bathroom to tell me he'd
dropped his toothbrush in the toilet.  So I fished it out and threw it in the
garbage.  Zachary stood there thinking for a moment, then ran to my bathroom
and came out with my toothbrush.  He held it up and said with a charming
little smile, "We better throw this one out too then, 'cause it fell in the
toilet a few days ago."


On the first day of school, a first grader handed his teacher a note from
his mother.  The note read, "The opinions expressed by this child are not
necessarily those of his parents."


A woman was trying hard to get the sauce to come out of the jar.  During her
struggle the phone rang so she asked her four-year old daughter to answer
the phone. "It's the minister, Mummy," the child said to her mother.
Then she added, "Mummy can't come to the phone to talk to you right now.  She's
hitting the bottle."


I love the outdoors, and because of my passion for hunting and fishing, my
family eats a considerable amount of wild game.  So much, in fact, that one
evening as I set a platter of broiled venison steaks on the dinner table,
my ten-year-old daughter looked up and said, "Boy, it sure would be nice if
pizzas lived in the woods."


A mother was showing her son how to zip up his coat. "The secret," she
said "is to get the left part of the zipper to fit in the other side before
you try to zip it up."

The boy looked at her quizzically. "Why does it have to be a secret?"


When my daughter was three, we watched Snow White and The Seven Dwarfs for
the first time.  The wicked queen appeared, disguised as an old lady selling
apples, and my daughter was spellbound.  Then Snow White took a bite of the
poisoned apple and fell to the ground unconscious.  As the apple rolled away,
my daughter spoke up. "See, Mum.  She doesn't like the skin either."


A little boy got lost at the YMCA and found himself in the women's locker
room.  When he was spotted, the room burst into shrieks, with ladies grabbing
towels and running for cover.  The little boy watched in amazement and then
asked, "What's the matter?  Haven't you ever seen a little boy before?"

              And lastly of awlly for this week - from Doug Knight:


An Irishman moves to the USA and finally attends his first baseball game.  The
first batter approached the batters box, took a few swings and then hits
a double.  Everyone was on their feet screaming "Run,Run".  The next batter
hits a single and the Irishman listened as the crowd again cheered "RUN, RUN".

The Irishman enjoyed the game and began screaming with the fans.  The fifth
batter came up and four balls went by.  The umpire called a walk and the
batter started his slow trot to first base.

The Irishman stood up and screamed, "R-R-Run ye bastard, run".  The people
around him began laughing.  Embarrassed, the Irishman sat back down.  A
friendly fan noted the man's embarrassment, leaned over and explained,
"He can't run -- he's got four balls."

The Irishman stood up and screamed, "Walk with pride, lad."
[ End Friday humour ]

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