IRATIO

 

I like to go to pubs

I like a drink or two

Sometimes things happen

That can embarrass you

On such thing is when

Your drink to toilet ratio

Becomes synchronized

With the resident wino

A BITTER IRONY

 

Twenty-five years I have been married to my present wife and for twenty-four and a half of those years I have been praying to go deaf or for my dear wife to be struck dumb.

Ironically, my wife now needs a hearing aid and I have laryngitis.

NEW REALITY SHOW

 

Hot off the press, news of a new reality show has been leaked to the national press.

The show, to be screened later this year, is to be hosted by the same diminutive pair of talent less Geordie lads who seem to host everything else on Saturday nights.

The format is fairly standard and will have the traditional panel led by an ill-mannered oily type dressed in all black, someone with no talent for anything like the wide mouth creature married to the Prime Minister and someone either from the religious community like the gay Bishop or they will try to go for rating and settle for Sting or Madonna.

However, breaking with tradition, the object of the show is not as is usual to inflict a bunch of wannabee nobodies onto a Saturday night audience to apathetic even to change channel.

Refreshingly the purpose of this one is to select a new pontiff when the current one gives up the ghost and the show will be called Pope Idol.

DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?

 

Many years ago, in the days when the steak houses were only just appearing and there wasn’t a fast-food joint on every corner, indeed the only fast food establishment was the chip shop although the more cosmopolitan towns did have a wimpy bar.

Any way I arrived, with my wife, at a highly regarded and exclusive restaurant where I had a reservation, made three months in advance I might add.

Well on entering the restaurant the scene that greeted me was that of the Maitre’d being confronted by a very angry man in fact he was so angry that his face was a strange purple colour, and his temples were throbbing and the reason for his shouting was that he was demanding he be seated at the last available table.

The purple faced man in question was a well-known TV actor of the day in fact at the time he was starring in a series called “The Lotus Eaters” I won’t mention his name, but I can say that it wasn’t Wanda Ventham.

The Maitre’d looked a little relieved when he saw me come in and immediately informed the purple faced actor that the vacant table was in fact reserved for this gentleman and his companion and he gestured in my direction.

The charmless though interestingly coloured man, now turned his attention on me and tried to persuade me to give up my reservation by shouting loudly at me.

When I refused his kind offer, he said “Do you know who I am?”

“Yes” I said and told him exactly who he was and what program he was currently in.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked him in return.

He looked puzzled and then answered “No”.

“I’m the bloke with the reservation” I told him.

He then had thick blue veins throbbing in his neck to go with his purple face and his language was even more colourful than his head.

STILL AT IT

 

You know at seventy-four

I am still enjoying sex

It takes no effort though

I only live at seventy-six

SIMPLE

 

In almost any circumstance

That may occur

Everything should be made

I would infer

As simple as possible

But no simpler

VEGGIE

 

I am a vegetarian

But not because

I love animals

I am a vegetarian

Simply because

I hate vegetables