Jokes
- Thread starter Merlin the Magician
- Start date
Merlin the Magician
At the Start
G-G
Senior Jockey
How to complain
Allegedly........This is a genuine complaint to Greenock Police Force from an angry member of the public. A true email sent to the force, lengthy but brilliantly written.....
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Dear Sir/Madam/Automated telephone answering service,
Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Greenock police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead.
Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Greenock, by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or Ouija board.
As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in Mathie Crescent, which is just off Mathie Road in Gourock.
Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building. This game is now in its third week and as I am unsure how the scoring system works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.
The remaining five failed-abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on ecstasy pills.
I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the caravan gas bottle that is lying on its side between the two bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches. Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.
What I suggest is this - after replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a Panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.
I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.
I remain your obedient servant
???????
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Mr ??????,
I have read your e-mail and understand your frustration at the problems caused by youths playing in the area and the problems you have encountered in trying to contact the police.
As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.. Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details (address / telephone number) and when may be suitable.
Regards
PC ???????
Community Beat Officer
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Dear PC ???????
First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original e-mail.
16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Greenock Police Station, and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris McWhirter for inclusion in his next Guinness book.
Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has its own Community Beat Officer.
May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills? In the five or so years I have lived in Mathie Crescent , I have never seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand basin? It's surely only a matter of time before you are head-hunted by MI5 to look for Osama.
Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking place in Gourock, such as smoking in a public place or being Christian without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these twats that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere?
The pitch on Larkfield Road or the one at Battery Park are both within spitting distance, as is the bottom of the Gourock Dock, the latter being the preferred option especially if the tide is in.
Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free to contact me on <???????>. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in Monty's Pub.
Regards
?????????
P.S If you think that this is sarcasm, think yourself lucky that you don't work for the sewerage department with whom I am also in contact !!!
Allegedly........This is a genuine complaint to Greenock Police Force from an angry member of the public. A true email sent to the force, lengthy but brilliantly written.....
--------------
Dear Sir/Madam/Automated telephone answering service,
Having spent the past twenty minutes waiting for someone at Greenock police station to pick up a telephone I have decided to abandon the idea and try e-mailing you instead.
Perhaps you would be so kind as to pass this message on to your colleagues in Greenock, by means of smoke signal, carrier pigeon or Ouija board.
As I'm writing this e-mail there are eleven failed medical experiments (I think you call them youths) in Mathie Crescent, which is just off Mathie Road in Gourock.
Six of them seem happy enough to play a game which involves kicking a football against an iron gate with the force of a meteorite. This causes an earth shattering CLANG! which rings throughout the entire building. This game is now in its third week and as I am unsure how the scoring system works, I have no idea if it will end any time soon.
The remaining five failed-abortions are happily rummaging through several bags of rubbish and items of furniture that someone has so thoughtfully dumped beside the wheelie bins. One of them has found a saw and is setting about a discarded chair like a beaver on ecstasy pills.
I fear that it's only a matter of time before they turn their limited attention to the caravan gas bottle that is lying on its side between the two bins. If they could be relied on to only blow their own arms and legs off then I would happily leave them to it. I would even go so far as to lend them the matches. Unfortunately they are far more likely to blow up half the street with them and I've just finished decorating the kitchen.
What I suggest is this - after replying to this e-mail with worthless assurances that the matter is being looked into and will be dealt with, why not leave it until the one night of the year (probably bath night) when there are no mutants around then drive up the street in a Panda car before doing a three point turn and disappearing again. This will of course serve no other purpose than to remind us what policemen actually look like.
I trust that when I take a claw hammer to the skull of one of these throwbacks you'll do me the same courtesy of giving me a four month head start before coming to arrest me.
I remain your obedient servant
???????
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Mr ??????,
I have read your e-mail and understand your frustration at the problems caused by youths playing in the area and the problems you have encountered in trying to contact the police.
As the Community Beat Officer for your street I would like to extend an offer of discussing the matter fully with you.. Should you wish to discuss the matter, please provide contact details (address / telephone number) and when may be suitable.
Regards
PC ???????
Community Beat Officer
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear PC ???????
First of all I would like to thank you for the speedy response to my original e-mail.
16 hours and 38 minutes must be a personal record for Greenock Police Station, and rest assured that I will forward these details to Norris McWhirter for inclusion in his next Guinness book.
Secondly I was delighted to hear that our street has its own Community Beat Officer.
May I be the first to congratulate you on your covert skills? In the five or so years I have lived in Mathie Crescent , I have never seen you. Do you hide up a tree or have you gone deep undercover and infiltrated the gang itself? Are you the one with the acne and the moustache on his forehead or the one with a chin like a wash hand basin? It's surely only a matter of time before you are head-hunted by MI5 to look for Osama.
Whilst I realise that there may be far more serious crimes taking place in Gourock, such as smoking in a public place or being Christian without due care and attention, is it too much to ask for a policeman to explain (using words of no more than two syllables at a time) to these twats that they might want to play their strange football game elsewhere?
The pitch on Larkfield Road or the one at Battery Park are both within spitting distance, as is the bottom of the Gourock Dock, the latter being the preferred option especially if the tide is in.
Should you wish to discuss these matters further you should feel free to contact me on <???????>. If after 25 minutes I have still failed to answer, I'll buy you a large one in Monty's Pub.
Regards
?????????
P.S If you think that this is sarcasm, think yourself lucky that you don't work for the sewerage department with whom I am also in contact !!!
trackside528
At the Start
- Joined
- Apr 30, 2006
- Messages
- 5,377
Got a text from my sister today. She said she was after meeting a very stressed-looking Brian Cowen outside IKEA in Ballymun.
Apparently he is in serious need of a new Cabinet.
Apparently he is in serious need of a new Cabinet.
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swedish chef
At the Start
In deference to The Archbishop of Canterbury and The Royal Commission for Political Correctness, it was announced today that the local climate in the UK should no longer be referred to as ......''English Weather..'
Rather than offend a sizable portion of the population, it will now be referred to as 'Muslim Weather.'
In other words ... partly Sunni, but mostly Shi'ite.
Rather than offend a sizable portion of the population, it will now be referred to as 'Muslim Weather.'
In other words ... partly Sunni, but mostly Shi'ite.
You only just got that sent to you now, Chef? Christ, the Internet's getting as bad as the snail mail!
An official from the DWP wasn't convinced that old farmer Giles was paying his farmworkers the wage that he'd entered on his tax returns. He decided to pay him an unannounced visit, demanding to see the staff.
"You!" he bellowed at the top herdsman. "Look at this sheet - are you really getting that much money from Giles, or much less?" The herdsman looked at the sheet, nodded his head and said that not only did he get all that much money, he got a free cottage and veggies from the garden, too.
Frustrated, the official waved the paper at the shepherd. "Shepherd!" be bawled, "Tell me how much money Giles pays you! And don't tell me your cottage is free, either!" The shepherd told him how much money he got - exactly as per the form in the official's hand - and no, he didn't get a cottage free. He paid 35p a week for it, but got a supply of foul weather clothes and boots, and all his sheepdog's food free.
And so time wore on, with everyone attesting to the truth of Giles's return. Finally, exasperated, the official turned to farmer Giles himself. "Giles!" he squawked, his voice near-gone from so much shouting at people. "You've declared that one hand gets only a tenner a week. That's ridiculous! Explain, man!"
Farmer Giles didn't bother to look at the paper. In his soft Somerset burr, he replied, "Yes, that's true. He gets only a tenner, he doesn't have a free cottage or even pay 35p in rent, he pays for everything, he works 11 hours a day, and his wife's screwing the boss."
The official scowled. "Bring him here - I want a word with him!"
"No need," said Giles. "That'll be me."
An official from the DWP wasn't convinced that old farmer Giles was paying his farmworkers the wage that he'd entered on his tax returns. He decided to pay him an unannounced visit, demanding to see the staff.
"You!" he bellowed at the top herdsman. "Look at this sheet - are you really getting that much money from Giles, or much less?" The herdsman looked at the sheet, nodded his head and said that not only did he get all that much money, he got a free cottage and veggies from the garden, too.
Frustrated, the official waved the paper at the shepherd. "Shepherd!" be bawled, "Tell me how much money Giles pays you! And don't tell me your cottage is free, either!" The shepherd told him how much money he got - exactly as per the form in the official's hand - and no, he didn't get a cottage free. He paid 35p a week for it, but got a supply of foul weather clothes and boots, and all his sheepdog's food free.
And so time wore on, with everyone attesting to the truth of Giles's return. Finally, exasperated, the official turned to farmer Giles himself. "Giles!" he squawked, his voice near-gone from so much shouting at people. "You've declared that one hand gets only a tenner a week. That's ridiculous! Explain, man!"
Farmer Giles didn't bother to look at the paper. In his soft Somerset burr, he replied, "Yes, that's true. He gets only a tenner, he doesn't have a free cottage or even pay 35p in rent, he pays for everything, he works 11 hours a day, and his wife's screwing the boss."
The official scowled. "Bring him here - I want a word with him!"
"No need," said Giles. "That'll be me."
A young blonde Portsmouth girl, down on her luck, decided to end it all one night by casting herself into the cold, dark waters off Gunwharf Quay.
As she stood on the edge, pondering the infinite, a young sailor noticed her as he strolled by. 'You're not thinking of jumping, are you babes?' he asked.
'Yes, I am.' replied the sobbing girl.
Putting his arm around her, the kind sailor coaxed her back from the edge. 'Look, nothing's worth that. I'll tell you what; I'm sailing off for Australia tomorrow. Why don't you stow away on board and start a new life over there. I'll set you up in one of the lifeboats on the deck, bring you food and water every night and I'll look after you if you look after me if you know what I mean. You just have to keep very quiet so that you won't be found'.
The girl, having no better prospects, agreed, and the sailor sneaked her on board that very night. For the next 3 weeks the sailor came to her lifeboat every night, bringing food and water, and making love to her until dawn.
Then, during the fourth week, the captain was performing a routine inspection of the ship and its lifeboats. He peeled back the cover to find the startled blonde, and demanded an explanation.
The girl came clean, 'I've stowed away to get to Australia. One of the sailors is helping me out. He set me up in here and brings me food and water every night and he's screwing me.'
The captain stared at her for a moment before he replied, “He certainly is, Love … this is the Isle of Wight Ferry” .
As she stood on the edge, pondering the infinite, a young sailor noticed her as he strolled by. 'You're not thinking of jumping, are you babes?' he asked.
'Yes, I am.' replied the sobbing girl.
Putting his arm around her, the kind sailor coaxed her back from the edge. 'Look, nothing's worth that. I'll tell you what; I'm sailing off for Australia tomorrow. Why don't you stow away on board and start a new life over there. I'll set you up in one of the lifeboats on the deck, bring you food and water every night and I'll look after you if you look after me if you know what I mean. You just have to keep very quiet so that you won't be found'.
The girl, having no better prospects, agreed, and the sailor sneaked her on board that very night. For the next 3 weeks the sailor came to her lifeboat every night, bringing food and water, and making love to her until dawn.
Then, during the fourth week, the captain was performing a routine inspection of the ship and its lifeboats. He peeled back the cover to find the startled blonde, and demanded an explanation.
The girl came clean, 'I've stowed away to get to Australia. One of the sailors is helping me out. He set me up in here and brings me food and water every night and he's screwing me.'
The captain stared at her for a moment before he replied, “He certainly is, Love … this is the Isle of Wight Ferry” .
:lol::lol::lol: Love it - nice twist in the tail!
Jock and Jimmy from the Gorbals are talking about Jock's upcoming wedding.
"Ah've nae more tae do, Jimmy," says Jock. "Ah've arranged thu caurs, thu fleurs, the rang, the chuch, the whool lot."
"Och, tha's grand, Jock," says Jimmy, "hae ye go' yersen a new suit?"
"Feck, have I!" laughs Jock, "Ah've nae jus' go' mesen a new suit, ah've got a kilt as weel!"
"Feck, that's pure sweet, that is, mon," admires Jimmy. "Whit's the tartan?"
" Och, Ah imagine she'll just be in white."
Jock and Jimmy from the Gorbals are talking about Jock's upcoming wedding.
"Ah've nae more tae do, Jimmy," says Jock. "Ah've arranged thu caurs, thu fleurs, the rang, the chuch, the whool lot."
"Och, tha's grand, Jock," says Jimmy, "hae ye go' yersen a new suit?"
"Feck, have I!" laughs Jock, "Ah've nae jus' go' mesen a new suit, ah've got a kilt as weel!"
"Feck, that's pure sweet, that is, mon," admires Jimmy. "Whit's the tartan?"
" Och, Ah imagine she'll just be in white."
Merlin the Magician
At the Start
· paddy's in bed with his wife her mobile phone rings at 3am.paddy answers it then angrily replies why don’t you fcuk off and ring the weather office, wife asks who was that? He says some cnut asking if the coast is clear....................
betsmate
At the Start
- Joined
- Dec 7, 2004
- Messages
- 5,752
An Englishman, a Scotsman, an Irishman, a Latvian, a Turk, an Aussie, a Yank, an Egyptian, a Jap, a Mexican, a Spaniard, a Greek, a Russian, an Estonian, a German, an Italian, a Pole, a Lithuanian, a Swede, a Finn, an Israeli, a Romanian, a Bulgarian, a Serb, a Czech, and a Swiss man walk into a bar.
The landlord says, "I can't let you in without a Thai."
The landlord says, "I can't let you in without a Thai."
Peter invited his mother for dinner and during the course of the meal she couldn't help but notice how lovely Peter's flatmate, Joanne, was. She had long been suspicious of a relationship between the two, and this only made her more curious.
Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Peter and his flat mate than met the eye. Reading his mum's thoughts, Peter volunteered, 'I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Joanne & I are just flatmates'.
About a week later, Joanne came to Peter saying, 'Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the frying pan, you don't suppose she took it do you?
'Well I doubt it, but I'll e-mail her just to be sure' said Peter.
So he sat down and wrote:
Dear mother,
I'm not saying that you 'did' take the frying pan from my flat. I'm not saying that you 'did not' take the frying pan, but the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love, Peter.
Several days later, Peter received an email from his mother which read:
Dear son,
I'm not saying that you 'do' sleep with Joanne, and I’m not saying that you 'do not' sleep with Joanne, but the fact remains that if she was sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the frying pan by now.
Love, Mum.
Over the course of the evening, while watching the two interact, she started to wonder if there was more between Peter and his flat mate than met the eye. Reading his mum's thoughts, Peter volunteered, 'I know what you must be thinking, but I assure you, Joanne & I are just flatmates'.
About a week later, Joanne came to Peter saying, 'Ever since your mother came to dinner, I've been unable to find the frying pan, you don't suppose she took it do you?
'Well I doubt it, but I'll e-mail her just to be sure' said Peter.
So he sat down and wrote:
Dear mother,
I'm not saying that you 'did' take the frying pan from my flat. I'm not saying that you 'did not' take the frying pan, but the fact remains that it has been missing ever since you were here for dinner.
Love, Peter.
Several days later, Peter received an email from his mother which read:
Dear son,
I'm not saying that you 'do' sleep with Joanne, and I’m not saying that you 'do not' sleep with Joanne, but the fact remains that if she was sleeping in her own bed, she would have found the frying pan by now.
Love, Mum.
AliGupter
At the Start
I just saw Mr. T getting on a baby horse.
I pity the foal.
I pity the foal.
G
Gearoid
Guest
BlazingWalker
At the Start
Prince William says he doesn't want the traditional fruitcake at his wedding.
Prince Phillip retorted ' I dont give a damn,I'm still f**king coming!!!'
Prince Phillip retorted ' I dont give a damn,I'm still f**king coming!!!'
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BlazingWalker
At the Start
A little girl finds her dog dead one morning with its legs in the air & asks her Dad why its like that?? Dad says its died & its like that so Jesus can pick it up & take it to heaven.
Next day she says 'Dad,Mum nearly died today! She was on her back with her legs in the air shouting 'Oh,Jesus,I'm coming!!'. If the postman hadn't been holding her down we'd have lost her!!
Next day she says 'Dad,Mum nearly died today! She was on her back with her legs in the air shouting 'Oh,Jesus,I'm coming!!'. If the postman hadn't been holding her down we'd have lost her!!
Apparently true story related to me today by my very camp elderly neighbour:
The late Duke and Duchess of Windsor were dining at the Astoria in New York with General de Gaulle, when the engagement of Princess Margaret to Tony the snapper was announced. "Ah," beamed de Gaulle, " 'ow lovely for Margaret Rose to find true 'appiness at last, no?"
The Duke shot him a glance: "Charles, the princess has dropped the 'Rose' bit from her name, you know. Only to be called Margaret."
De Gaulle shook his head. "No, I did not know, Edward. When did she drop that pretty name? Rose is so nice."
Before the Duke could reply, in came the harsh voice of the Duchess with "She dropped the Rose at the same time she picked up the pansy!"
The late Duke and Duchess of Windsor were dining at the Astoria in New York with General de Gaulle, when the engagement of Princess Margaret to Tony the snapper was announced. "Ah," beamed de Gaulle, " 'ow lovely for Margaret Rose to find true 'appiness at last, no?"
The Duke shot him a glance: "Charles, the princess has dropped the 'Rose' bit from her name, you know. Only to be called Margaret."
De Gaulle shook his head. "No, I did not know, Edward. When did she drop that pretty name? Rose is so nice."
Before the Duke could reply, in came the harsh voice of the Duchess with "She dropped the Rose at the same time she picked up the pansy!"