Friday Joke

[Noodley]

Just got sent this one, which made me chuckle:


Prime Minister, Gordon Brown was visiting a Scottish primary school and he visited one of the classes. They were in the middle of a discussion related to words and their meanings. The teacher asked Mr Brown if he would like to lead the discussion on the word 'tragedy'.

So the illustrious leader asked the class for an example of a 'tragedy'.

A little boy stood up and offered: 'If ma best freen, wha lives on a fairm, is playin' in the field an' a tractor rins ower him and kills him, that wid be a 'tragedy'.' 'No,' said Gordon in his best "trying-not-to-sound-too-Scottish" accent - 'that would be an accident.'

A little girl raised her hand: 'If a skale bus kerryin' fufty weans drove ower a cliff, killing a'b'dy inside, that wid be a tragedy.' 'I'm afraid not,' explained Gordon - 'that's what we would call a 'great loss'.'

The room went silent. No other children volunteered. Gordon searched the room.

'Isn't there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?'

Finally, at the back of the room, wee Johnny raised his hand...

In a quiet voice he said:

'If a plane kerryin' you and Mr Darlin' wis struck by a 'freendly fire' missile an' blawn tae smithereens, that wid be a tragedy.'

'Fantastic!' exclaimed Gordon. 'That's right. And can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?'

'Weel,' says wee Johnny, 'it his tae be a tragedy, because it certainly widnae be a great loss..... and it probably widnae be a f*ckin' accident either!'

 

[peanut]

brilliant noodles brilliant.
Needed a good chuckle today .

 

[Wigsie]

brilliant noodles brilliant.
Needed a good chuckle today .

+1

But why can I do an awesome Rab C. Nesbitt inspired scottish accent in my head but not out loud?

 

[Radius]

Beehee

 

[dellzeqq]

Right - LOOK AWAY IF YOU'RE EASILY OFFENDED.

(the rest of you form an orderly queue).

The frozen north. The Hunter takes his rifle from the rack on the wall of his log cabin, and goes out in to the snowy wilderness. He tramps this way and that, looking for tracks, keeping ears and rifle cocked, and then, after half an hour or so, he sees....a bear. The rifle goes to his shoulder, a shot rings out, the bear falls down behind a large log, and the hunter, beside himself with joy, runs over to claim his kill. No bear.

He looks up and down, left and right, and then backs up a bit. There's a tap on his shoulder. The bear says 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you, but I confess I'm a little put out by being shot at. And I think I'm entitled to some recompense. I am, however, a fair bear, so I'll give you a choice. You have two options. Either I bit your head off and have your innards for lunch, or you drop your keks and bend over that tree, and I have my way with you. Which is it to be?'

The hunter considers for all of a second, and then drops his pants and trousers and places himself at the bear's disposal. Never let it be said that bears are animals in a hurry, and fully an hour goes past before the hunter, feeling more than a little sore, is released. He runs back to the cabin....

...and reaches up to the rack for a shotgun. Off he tramps into the snow, his footprints just a tad more splayed than hitherto, and, to his great joy, it is barely ten minutes before he spots a bear - the very same bear - by the very same log.

He blasts away with the shotgun, and the bear drops to the ground. The hunter runs to the log. No bear. He looks up, he looks down, he looks left and right, and, shaking his head, steps back...the same tap on the shoulder. The same offer, and the same consequence, although, bears being no less human than the rest of us, it takes a while longer. Thus it is that the sun is low in the sky when the hunter shuffles painfully back to his log cabin, and reaches for the weapon that the second amendment was written for - a 'home' bazooka with depleted uranium shells.

Out he goes into the snow, and, once again, he sees his ursine nemesis (I just made that up, by the way...). Once again there is an almighty bang, and, once again the bear falls down behind the log. The hunter runs over, blazing with a desire for revenge. And there is no bear.

He looks left, he looks right, he scans the trees and peeks under the log, and then takes a step back. There is a tap on his shoulder. He looks round. There stands the bear, with a silver tray on one paw, carrying two glasses of pink champagne. But this time what he says is.... 'you're not really here for the hunting, are you?'