Category Archives: Joke
Davina’s mother came to the door. She took one look at me and said, ‘No, thank you, we’re Sainsbury’s.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m here for Davina.’
‘Are you Jaspah?’
‘Oh dear,’ she said and shouted into the house, ‘Davina, it’s Jaspah!’
Davina quickly appeared.
‘Oh fabuloso! Yippee, Mummy, he’s got a super big lorry with eight wheels. Isn’t he absolutely sweet? Mummy, this is Jaspah. Jaspah . . . Mummy.’
I was just going ‘How do you do, Mrs Jacobson. Very pleased to meet –’ when, at that precise moment, Sebastian arrives.
Sebastian was their Afghan and he gave me no chance. He spotted that right leg and suddenly it was Sadler’s Wells again.
‘Get ‘im off me!’ I was yelling as they were beating him with bricks, sticks and anything that came to hand.
‘Kick his balls!’ Mrs Jacobson shouted.
That was all I needed. By leaping three yards in the air, I could screw my left foot round and deliver a Trevor Francis special – right between Sebastian’s thrusting legs.
‘No!’ she screamed. ‘His balls! The ones on the lawn!’
But by that time there were tears in my eyes, never mind Sebastian’s.
Eventually I was taken into the lounge to meet Davina’s father. He wasn’t too impressed.
‘You look a mess,’ he said.
‘I should think so. I’ve just been raped by your Afghan.’
The whole family was there so I had to go around the room meeting aunties, uncles, grannies, brothers, sisters – the whole Jacobson hunting set.
… About an hour later, they brought in tea and cucumber sandwiches. While we were all chatting away, Sebastian appeared, limping slightly.
Luckily, he was too knackered by now to pay me any attention. Instead, he sat down in the middle of the room and started methodically licking his bum.
Now isn’t that embarrassing? I mean, where do you look? No one’s going to say anything, are they? They’re not going to say, ‘Stop licking your arsehole, Sebastian.’
In desperation, to break the acute embarrassment of the occasion, I said, ‘Cor, I wish I could do that.’
It was just to break the ice – crack a little funny, that sort of thing.
But you always know when you’ve said the wrong thing. People start spluttering and coughing and fingering their collars.
Thankfully, it was Davina’s mum who let me off the hook. She looked me in the eye and smiled sweetly.
‘If you give him a biscuit, he’ll let you.’
The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, which was the other possibility.
As part of the negotiations with the Germans, the British Government conceded that English spelling had some room for improvement and has accepted a 5-year phase-in plan that would become known as “Euro-English”.
In the first year, “s” will be used instead of the soft “c.” Sertainly, sivil servants will reseive this news with joy.
The hard “c” will be dropped in favour of “k”. This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.
There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year, when the troublesome “ph” will be replaced by “f”. This will make words like fotograf” 20 persent shorter.
In the third year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.
Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters, which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.
Also, al wil agre that the horible mes of silent “e”s in the languag is disgrasful, and they would go.
By the fourth year, peopl wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing “th” by “z” and “w” by “v”.
During ze fifz year, ze unesesary “o” kan be dropd from vords kontaining “ou”, and similar changes vud of kors be aplid to ozer kombinations of leters.
After zis fifz yer, ve vil hav a reli sensibl riten styl. Zer vil be no mor trubls or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi tu understand ech ozer.
Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.
Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.
If zis mad you smil, pleas pas on to oza pepl.