Skip to main content

A Wee Bit of Humor

Fun fact: Mr. Oliver can trace his half ancestry back to Scotland, thanks to his Mom. On his Dad's side the DNA is French and German (we don't know what I am, but I might get one of those ethnicity tests one day to find out.)

I was looking up some Scottish jokes the other day to send to Oliver's Mom, and found these:

What's That

A shifty-looking guy in a kilt walks into a London pub.

He orders a pint, and very very carefully puts down the duffle bag he is carrying.

The bartender asks, "What's that?"

The guy leans forward, and in a whisper says, "6 pounds of explosives."

"Thank Christ for that," says the bartender, looking relieved now. "I thought it might be bagpipes."

Sorted

A Scottish dad calls his son in London the day before Christmas Eve: “I hate to ruin your holidays, son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing. Forty-five years of misery is enough.”

"Dad, what are you talking about?" the son demands.

“We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,” the father says. “We're sick of each other and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Leeds and tell her.”

Frantically, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. “Like hell they're getting divorced!” she shrieks. “I'll take care of this!”

She calls Scotland immediately, and yells at her father, “You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?” and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Sorted. They're coming for Christmas - and they're paying their own way."

Me First

An Englishman, Irishman, Welshman, Scotsman were captured while fighting in a far-off foreign land, and the leader of the captors said, "We're going to line you up in front of a firing squad and shoot you all in turn. But first, you each can make a final wish."

The Englishman responds, "I'd like to hear "God Save The Queen" just one more time to remind me of the auld country, played by the London All Boys Choir. With Morris Dancers Dancing to the tune."

The Irishman replies, "I'd like to hear "Danny Boy" just one more time to remind me of the auld country, sung in the style of Daniel O'Donnell, with Riverdance dancers skipping gaily to the tune."

The Welshman answers, "I'd like to hear "Men Of Harlech" just one more time to remind me of the auld country, sung as if by the Treorchy Male Voice Choir."

The Scotsman says quickly, "I'd like to be shot now."

Comments

nightsmusic said…
My mother was pure Scot. I have a million of those jokes and a lot of wonderful memories. Oliver is a special boy!
Maria Zannini said…
Look at those bright blue eyes. He seems to be a very happy baby.

Popular posts from this blog

Holiday Prep

For Thanksgiving this year we've invited some guests from Oliver's mom's side of the family, so I have to start prepping now to get the house in shape for the big day. The first major thing is having the carpets cleaned, which we've scheduled for next week. This weekend I'll be cleaning out four rooms to get them ready for that. I started with my front dining room, which I use as my sewing room. It was kind of a mess already, so it felt good to get everything cleared out. We'll be having ten people at dinner plus two babies, so this will give me a chance to figure out how to arrange two tables in this space. I think this will be my last time hosting a big Thanksgiving gathering. Mike has started his family with a lovely girl who has a huge, close-knit family of her own, while Katherine will likely be off at grad school out of state for the next several years. I'm also not getting any younger. My guy and I will always celebrate Thanksgiving, but ...

T-minus Day

This was our little Thanksgiving dinner last year, when it was just the three of us. Time keeps whittling down my favorite holiday; this year it will be just me and my guy, and we likely won't even have a turkey.* That will be a first in 35 years. I feel about Thanksgiving the way other people do about Christmas, and while it's a lot of work it's my favorite holiday. Of all the Thanksgivings I've had in the past sixty years, only three were truly terrible: one when I was a kid that I don't talk about (#1 most miserable); the time I roasted two turkeys together and hosted fifteen people whom I cooked for and served with zero help (the largest and #2 most miserable); and the one I spent in basic training (the #3 most miserable.) I have no pictures of any of those, thank heavens. In addition to doing all the cooking I'm the one who takes all the pictures, washes all the dishes and puts away all the leftovers. I suppose no one else cares because to them it...

Fell Off the Wagon

I did cut up that plastic dollar tote to make into something stronger, but got caught up with work and set it aside. Then last night some hand-dyed silk and pretty threads called my name, and, well . . . Felt SO good to do some handwork, except my neck began hurting about an hour into it. I tried changing the way I sit and work, but it's pretty obvious that the doc is right.