Even more new jokes... (No UK Politics please)

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What with Lockdown starting to ease more and more as time goes by; I'm really starting to get totally fed up with people whinging on and on and on about the prices of things.





What's wrong with £1.50 for a cup of tea, £2 for a mug of coffee, £2.25 for a slice of cake, £1 for a biscuit and a mere £3 for car parking?




















I'm giving fair warning, any more complaints I will honestly stop inviting the family and friends around to my house.
 
BREAKING:

Prime Minister Boris Johnson has announced that due to the new Indian covid variant people will now be offered the Pun jab

Please start taking this Indian Covid variant seriously, my neighbour caught it and has been in a korma for a week and he had only just buried his naan.

Some chapati I know has it, symptoms include feeling chilli so if in any doubt dhal 999.
 
On the first day, he sadly packed his belongings into boxes, crates & suitcases.


On the second day, he had the movers come and collect his things.

On the third day, he sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table, by candle-light; he put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar and a bottle of spring-water.

When he'd finished, he went into each & every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimps dipped in caviar into the hollow center of the curtain rods. He then cleaned up the kitchen and left.

On the fourth day, the wife came back with her new boyfriend, and at first all was bliss. Then, slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning, mopping, and airing-out the place. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned.

Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which time the two had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.

Nothing worked! People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit.

Finally, they couldn't take the stench any longer, and decided they had to move, but a month later,even though they'd cut their price in half, they couldn't find a buyer for such a stinky house.

Word got out, and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls.

Finally, unable to wait any longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.

Then the ex called the woman and asked how things were going. She told him the saga of the rotting house. He listened politely and said he missed his old home terribly and would be willing to reduce his divorce settlement in exchange for having the house.

Knowing he could have no idea how bad the smell really was, she agreed on a price only 1/10 nth of what the house had been worth... but only if he would sign the papers that very day.

He agreed, and within two hours her lawyers delivered the completed paperwork.

A week later the woman and her boyfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home.... and to spite the ex-husband, they even took the curtain rods!
 
On the first day, he sadly packed his belongings into boxes, crates & suitcases.


On the second day, he had the movers come and collect his things.

On the third day, he sat down for the last time at their beautiful dining-room table, by candle-light; he put on some soft background music, and feasted on a pound of shrimp, a jar of caviar and a bottle of spring-water.

When he'd finished, he went into each & every room and deposited a few half-eaten shrimps dipped in caviar into the hollow center of the curtain rods. He then cleaned up the kitchen and left.

On the fourth day, the wife came back with her new boyfriend, and at first all was bliss. Then, slowly, the house began to smell. They tried everything; cleaning, mopping, and airing-out the place. Vents were checked for dead rodents, and carpets were steam cleaned.

Air fresheners were hung everywhere. Exterminators were brought in to set off gas canisters, during which time the two had to move out for a few days, and in the end they even paid to replace the expensive wool carpeting.

Nothing worked! People stopped coming over to visit. Repairmen refused to work in the house. The maid quit.

Finally, they couldn't take the stench any longer, and decided they had to move, but a month later,even though they'd cut their price in half, they couldn't find a buyer for such a stinky house.

Word got out, and eventually even the local realtors refused to return their calls.

Finally, unable to wait any longer for a purchaser, they had to borrow a huge sum of money from the bank to purchase a new place.

Then the ex called the woman and asked how things were going. She told him the saga of the rotting house. He listened politely and said he missed his old home terribly and would be willing to reduce his divorce settlement in exchange for having the house.

Knowing he could have no idea how bad the smell really was, she agreed on a price only 1/10 nth of what the house had been worth... but only if he would sign the papers that very day.

He agreed, and within two hours her lawyers delivered the completed paperwork.

A week later the woman and her boyfriend stood smiling as they watched the moving company pack everything to take to their new home.... and to spite the ex-husband, they even took the curtain rods!
Brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that when my first wife kicked me out of our home and made me pay off the mortgage! Nah, it wouldn't have been right to have made the poor shrimp have to suffer for as long as I did.
 
A mother had beautiful identical twins, one name Juan and one named Amal.
But she only ever carried a photo of one of them believing that if you’d seen Juan you’d seen Amal
 
Unshamelessly "borrowed" from elsewhere

A Day at the seaside.




On the map of North Notts. you'll find Worksop
Where'a lived when I wa'ra a lad

In a house wi'me Mam, two sisters and Gran
one brother, a budgie and Dad.

At the end of our street w'a a boozer
Black as stout, uninviting and glum

A den of depravity, it stank like a lavatory
Were me Dad went to hide from me Mam.

At the end of the bar, in a bottle
Every week, two bob he'd slip

for the annual treat, when the kids in our street
went to seaside on a coach trip.

We'd set off in morning from Worksop
On route for Sutton-on-Sea

with the holiday club ... them as paid up their subs
half the street me brother and me.

There w'a old Mrs.Brough from the tripe shop
Big soft Doris an her two lasses

an her sister, Ellen, with a bust like two melon
an a face like an ars'ole with glasses.

There w'a 'Perfumed Gordon', the hairdresser
and nobody did make it clear

why a rude boy, named Taylor, cried out, "Hello sailor!"

and something about ginger beer!

There w'a 'Desperate Derek', his brother, 'Big Eric'
and 'Basher', 'Gnasher' and 'Butch'

an Lil, who w'a willing for only a shilling
which w'a still about tenpence too much.

There w'a Mavis who wouldn't, 'cos her mum said she shouldn't
there w'a Neville who wished that he could,

An then there w'a Heather who said that she'd never
but looked like she probably would.

Well me Dad took a crate or two of ale wi him
Intending to travel in style,

Od'e coach did about 25 mile to the gallon
me Dad did half pint to the mile.

Rain were chucking it down leaving Worksop
through North Nott's it did not desist

there were cows with bronchitis and wet sheep to invite us
when Lincolnshire loomed in through mist.

Rain slacked off soon to a medium monsoon
and the day didn't look such a black'n
when the driver, called Reg, pulled up at a hedge
an we all made a break for the bracken.

Dad rushed for a tree and he said, "Scose me!"

an right there, one penny he spent it

he said, "Ain't it queer, one thing about beer,
yo don't really buy it... yo rent it!"

Well, this idyllic scene, 'mid the nettles and steam
w'a soon torn by me brother's plaintive cries,
the poor little nipper caught his 'donger' in his zipper
an w'a dancing with tears in his eyes.

Then back on the coach, off to Sutton
when we got there, well eeh! it were grand

an we gazed at the sea, cold ... the colour of tea
and smelled candy floss, dodgems and sand.

There were shops full of rock and hats with rude slogans
There w'a music and cries of hilarity

there were games on the sand, there were jellied eel stands
and souvenir shops packed with vulgarity.

Me brother ran down to the ocean
His intention, the water to reach

for his foot he'd just thrust in ... some'at disgustin'
a donkey had left on the beach.

The sea was as cold as a polar bear's ****
we watched Punch kill the crocodile dead

and after throwing some sand at the Salvation Army band
we went off to the funfair, instead.

There w'a ride called' Comet', made you scream, faint and vomit
half deafened, yo hung upside down

an the last bit, a spinner ... brought up rest of ya dinner
not bad y'know, for half 0' crown.

There were cards with fat ladies, nudists and Scotsmen
honeymooners and dirty weekenders

and in a machine ... what the butler had seen
dimly flickered about in suspenders.

We ate cockles and whelks and big winkles
soggy chips, toffee apples like glue

the hot-dogs were funny'ns, something rude wrapped in onions
but we ate them an pease pudding too.

Then we went on'ta dodgems and waltzer
an big dipper that rises and falls

It w'a on this machine that me brother turned green
an his eyes stood out like bulldogs balls.

This poor little chap, he w'a sick in his cap
It were his best'n ...an he started to cry

so not wishing to spoil it, we swilled it in toilet
and he wore it until it w'a dry.

Then driver found us and shouted, "Back to the bus!"

through the dark, we ran the whole way
candy floss in our hair ... but we didn't care
Eeh!.. we'd had such a wonderful day.

An with charabanc firing on seven cylinders
we set off for Worksop and home

rattlin along highway singing songs of Max Bygraves
accompanied on paper and comb.

In the dim orange glow of the coach-light, so low
courting couples were billing and cooing
hoping, perhaps, that the coats in their laps
would conceal the rude things they were doing.

We pulled up in our street about half past eleven
there w'a Mam, there w'a Granny an' all
they gazed with admiration at the plastic Alsatian
we'd won for 'em at coconut stall.

I drank up me cocoa, I ate up me sandwich
and soon up in bed I w'a curled

I w'a dreaming a dream ... I w'a leading a team
On first coach trip, round world.

Eeh!. .. them things that I did ... when I w'a a kid
although they were simple and small

now I'm grown up I find, I look back in my mind
I'm sure they were best times of all.



But of all things I'll tell ya for free

there's none can compete wi that charabanc treat
Wi me brother ... to Sutton on sea.
 
Unshamelessly "borrowed" from elsewhere

A Day at the seaside.




On the map of North Notts. you'll find Worksop
Where'a lived when I wa'ra a lad

In a house wi'me Mam, two sisters and Gran
one brother, a budgie and Dad.

At the end of our street w'a a boozer
Black as stout, uninviting and glum

A den of depravity, it stank like a lavatory
Were me Dad went to hide from me Mam.

At the end of the bar, in a bottle
Every week, two bob he'd slip

for the annual treat, when the kids in our street
went to seaside on a coach trip.

We'd set off in morning from Worksop
On route for Sutton-on-Sea

with the holiday club ... them as paid up their subs
half the street me brother and me.

There w'a old Mrs.Brough from the tripe shop
Big soft Doris an her two lasses

an her sister, Ellen, with a bust like two melon
an a face like an ars'ole with glasses.

There w'a 'Perfumed Gordon', the hairdresser
and nobody did make it clear

why a rude boy, named Taylor, cried out, "Hello sailor!"

and something about ginger beer!

There w'a 'Desperate Derek', his brother, 'Big Eric'
and 'Basher', 'Gnasher' and 'Butch'

an Lil, who w'a willing for only a shilling
which w'a still about tenpence too much.

There w'a Mavis who wouldn't, 'cos her mum said she shouldn't
there w'a Neville who wished that he could,

An then there w'a Heather who said that she'd never
but looked like she probably would.

Well me Dad took a crate or two of ale wi him
Intending to travel in style,

Od'e coach did about 25 mile to the gallon
me Dad did half pint to the mile.

Rain were chucking it down leaving Worksop
through North Nott's it did not desist

there were cows with bronchitis and wet sheep to invite us
when Lincolnshire loomed in through mist.

Rain slacked off soon to a medium monsoon
and the day didn't look such a black'n
when the driver, called Reg, pulled up at a hedge
an we all made a break for the bracken.

Dad rushed for a tree and he said, "Scose me!"

an right there, one penny he spent it

he said, "Ain't it queer, one thing about beer,
yo don't really buy it... yo rent it!"

Well, this idyllic scene, 'mid the nettles and steam
w'a soon torn by me brother's plaintive cries,
the poor little nipper caught his 'donger' in his zipper
an w'a dancing with tears in his eyes.

Then back on the coach, off to Sutton
when we got there, well eeh! it were grand

an we gazed at the sea, cold ... the colour of tea
and smelled candy floss, dodgems and sand.

There were shops full of rock and hats with rude slogans
There w'a music and cries of hilarity

there were games on the sand, there were jellied eel stands
and souvenir shops packed with vulgarity.

Me brother ran down to the ocean
His intention, the water to reach

for his foot he'd just thrust in ... some'at disgustin'
a donkey had left on the beach.

The sea was as cold as a polar bear's ****
we watched Punch kill the crocodile dead

and after throwing some sand at the Salvation Army band
we went off to the funfair, instead.

There w'a ride called' Comet', made you scream, faint and vomit
half deafened, yo hung upside down

an the last bit, a spinner ... brought up rest of ya dinner
not bad y'know, for half 0' crown.

There were cards with fat ladies, nudists and Scotsmen
honeymooners and dirty weekenders

and in a machine ... what the butler had seen
dimly flickered about in suspenders.

We ate cockles and whelks and big winkles
soggy chips, toffee apples like glue

the hot-dogs were funny'ns, something rude wrapped in onions
but we ate them an pease pudding too.

Then we went on'ta dodgems and waltzer
an big dipper that rises and falls

It w'a on this machine that me brother turned green
an his eyes stood out like bulldogs balls.

This poor little chap, he w'a sick in his cap
It were his best'n ...an he started to cry

so not wishing to spoil it, we swilled it in toilet
and he wore it until it w'a dry.

Then driver found us and shouted, "Back to the bus!"

through the dark, we ran the whole way
candy floss in our hair ... but we didn't care
Eeh!.. we'd had such a wonderful day.

An with charabanc firing on seven cylinders
we set off for Worksop and home

rattlin along highway singing songs of Max Bygraves
accompanied on paper and comb.

In the dim orange glow of the coach-light, so low
courting couples were billing and cooing
hoping, perhaps, that the coats in their laps
would conceal the rude things they were doing.

We pulled up in our street about half past eleven
there w'a Mam, there w'a Granny an' all
they gazed with admiration at the plastic Alsatian
we'd won for 'em at coconut stall.

I drank up me cocoa, I ate up me sandwich
and soon up in bed I w'a curled

I w'a dreaming a dream ... I w'a leading a team
On first coach trip, round world.

Eeh!. .. them things that I did ... when I w'a a kid
although they were simple and small

now I'm grown up I find, I look back in my mind
I'm sure they were best times of all.



But of all things I'll tell ya for free

there's none can compete wi that charabanc treat
Wi me brother ... to Sutton on sea.

Made me chuckle that, thanks. My late dad was an Old Worksopian public school boy, shipped off to Worksop college to make that transition from boy to educated young man.
Lived the rest of his life by the seaside!
 
A slightly shorter day at the seaside :

Mums fretting,
Dads betting
Babes wetting.
 

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