Two
Scotsman went bathing in the sea and one bet the other 50 pence that he
could stay longer underwater than his companion, who promptly accepted
the wager. The bodies have not yet been recovered.
A
man who was about to pass away sent for his friends, an Englishman, an
Irishman and a Scotsman. "In my time" he said, "I've been a
pretty good friend to you all, and now I'm going to ask you to show
your regard for me in an unmistakable way. Before I'm taken
to the tomb, I want each of you to place £20 in my coffin. Do
you promise?"
They
promised, and in due time performed. First came the
Englishman, who respectfully deposited a twenty pound note: next, the
Irishman, who sorrowfully put in a similar bank note: and, finally, the
Scotsman who gently remarked, "just cash it when it suits you John,"
took out the two £20 notes and dropped in a cheque for £60.
The Fake Bus
Pass
In
Edinburgh, Scotland the bus is a popular form of transport and
occasionally a passenger will try to cheat. So when the driver's
suspicions were raised by a pass he took the pass and examined it more
closely. The woman abandoned the pass and quickly left the bus. It was
a fake, made with a scanner and PC, but pretty realistic.
The pass contained a photograph of her, so 2 days later the bus company
had the fake card, complete with photograph, 3 foot wide displayed
upstairs and downstairs in all their buses. A banner proclaimed to the
city of Edinburgh "This Woman is a cheat" Needless to say, the bus
company has not lost too much revenue lately.
Scotsmen in
the dock
Now that reminds me of the story of old Sandy who was in court for
being drunk and disorderly. He remarked to he Sheriff, "Yon big polis
Sergeant is jist a rotten big bastirt. Ah wisna daein ony
hairm". "Now Now, Sandy", said the Sheriff, "You are not
allowed to say what you like in court aboot the police". "Weel", said
Sandy, "Kin Ah think whit Ah like". "Yes , Sandy", said the Sheriff,
"No one can stop you thinking what you like". "Aye, Richt", said Sandy,
"Weel, Sheriff, Ah hae tae say Ah still THINK
yon big Sergeant's a rotten Bastirt".
Reminds
me of Wee Jimmy up in the dock for Drunk & Disorderly. The
judge asks how he pleads...Wee Jimmy stands up and says, "It
wiz me, your honour, hands up I was drunk as a judge". The judge taken
aback and not a little offended says in his best Kelvinside accent, " I
believe the term you are looking for is drunk as a lord, its SOBER as a
Judge", Wee Jimmy looks thoughtful. "Right enough M'lud". Frae
Auld Bob Poffers:
The
story is told of a young Scottish lad named Angus who was sitting with
a wee lass on a low stone wall, holding hands, silently gazing out over
the loch.
Then
finally the girl looked at the boy and said, "A penny for your
thoughts, Angus."
"Well,
uh, I was thinkin'...perhaps it's aboot time for a wee kiss."
The girl
blushed, then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.
Then he
blushed. The two turned once again to gaze out over the loch.
Minutes
passed and the girl spoke again. "Another penny for your
thoughts, Angus."
"Well,
uh, I was thinkin' perhaps it's noo time aboot time for a wee cuddle."
The girl
blushed, then leaned over and cuddled him for a few seconds.
Then he
blushed. Then the two turned once again to gaze out over the loch.
After a
while, she again said, "Another penny for your thoughts,
Angus."
"Well,
uh, I was thinkin' perhaps it's aboot time you let me put my
hand on your leg."
The girl
blushed, then took his hand and put it on her knee. Then he blushed.
The the two turned once again to gaze out over the lock for several
minutes before the girl spoke again.
"Another
penny for your thoughts, Angus."
The
young man glanced down with a furled brow. "Weel, noo," he said,"my
thoughts are a wee bit more serious this time."
"Really?"
said the lass in a whisper, filled with anticipation.
"Aye,"
said the lad, nodding.
The girl
looked away in shyness, began to blush, and bit her lip in anticipation
of the ultimate request.
Then he
said, "Dae ye nae think it's aboot time ye paid me the first
three pennies?
Hardy Folk
40 degrees F - Californians shiver uncontrollably. People in
Scotland strip down to their vests and sunbathe
35 degrees F - Italian cars won't start.
People in Scotland drive with the windows down.
20 degrees F - Folk in Florida wear
coats, gloves, and wool hats. People in Scotland throw on a
long-sleeved T-shirt.
15 degrees F - Californians begin to
evacuate the state. People in Scotland go swimming in the North
Sea.
Zero degrees - New York landlords finally
turn up the heat. People in Scotland have the last BBQ before it gets
cold.
10 degrees below zero - In Miami,
mortality rate due to exposure rockets. People in Scotland enjoy an ice
cream.
20 degrees below zero - Californians fly
away to Mexico for a holiday. People in Scotland relent and throw on a
light jacket.
80 degrees below zero - Polar bears begin
to evacuate the Arctic. Scottish Boy Scouts postpone" Winter Survival"
classes because it's not cold enough.
100 degrees below zero - Santa Claus
abandons the North Pole. People in Scotland pull down the ear flaps on
their balaclavas.
173 degrees below zero - Ethyl alcohol
freezes. People in Scotland get frustrated when they can't defrost
their porridge.
297 degrees below zero - Microbial life
start to disappear. Scottish cows complain of farmers with cold
hands.
460 degrees below zero - ALL atomic
motion stops. People in Scotland start saying "Here it's chilly, you
cauld an aw?"
500 degrees below zero - Hell freezes
over. PEOPLE IN SCOTLAND START TO SUPPORT ENGLAND IN THE
WORLD CUP!
Cheerful Folk
Depressed Man Diagnosed as 'Scottish' - A 'true' story from a US
newspaper...
Alistair McGregor, an expatriate Scottish man living in America,
was recently diagnosed as clinically depressed, tanked up
on anti-depressants and scheduled for controversial Shock
Therapy when doctors realized he wasn't depressed at all...
only Scottish.
Mr.
McGregor, a Scottish man whose characteristic pessimism and
gloomy perspective were interpreted as serious clinical
depression, was led on a nightmare journey through the
American psychiatric system.
Doctors
described McGregor as suffering from Pervasive Negative
Anticipation - a belief that everything will turn out for the
worst, whether it's trains arriving late,
Scotland's chances at winning any international sports event
or even his own prospects to get ahead in life and achieve his
dreams. "The satisfaction Mr. McGregor seemed to get from his
pessimism seemed particularly pathological," reported the
doctors.
"They
put me on everything - Lithium, Prozac, St John's Wort,
Ginseng", said Mr. McGregor. "They even told me to sit in front of
a big light for an hour a day or I'd become suicidal. I kept
telling them this was all pointless and they said it was
exactly that sort of attitude which got me here in the first
place."
Running
out of ideas, his doctors finally resorted to a course of
"weapons grade MDMA", the only noticeable effect of which was
six hours of speedy repetitions of the phrases
"mustn't grumble" and "not too bad, really."
Mr.
McGregor had six months of therapy but seemed to mainly want
to talk about the weather - how miserable and cold it was in
winter and later how difficult and wet it was in summer. The
doctors felt he wasn't responding to therapy at all and so
recommended drastic action - namely ECT or shock treatment.
"I
was all strapped down on the table and they were about to put
the rubber bit in my mouth when the psychiatric nurse picked
up on my accent," said Mr. McGregor. "I remember her saying
'Oh my God, I think we're making a terrible mistake'."
Nurse
Alice Sheen was a big fan of Scottish comedy giving her an
understanding of the Scottish psyche. "Classic comedy characters
like Chick Murray, Will Fife and The Crankies, all hopeless
cases with no chance of ever doing well or escaping their
circumstances," she explained to the baffled US medics. "In
Scotland, being depressed to the point of suicidal is
considered the norm and is not seen as pathological at all."
Identifying Mr.McGregor as Scottish changed his diagnosis
from 'clinical depression' to 'rather quaint and charming'
and he was immediately discharged from hospital, with a
selection of brightly colored leaflets and an "I love New
York" T-shirt.
From the
Personal column of a Scottish newspaper:
Grossly
overweight Buckie turf-cutter, 42 years old and 23 stone,
Gemini, seeks nimble sexpot, preferably South American, for
tango sessions, candlelit dinners and humid nights of
screaming passion. Must have own car and be willing to
travel. Box 09/08
Aberdeen
man, 50, in desperate need of a ride. Anything considered.
Box06/03
Heavy
drinker, 35, Glasgow area, seeks gorgeous sex addict
interested in pints, fags, Celtic football club and starting
scraps on Sauchiehall Street at three in the morning. Box
73/82.
Bitter,
disillusioned Dundonian lately rejected by longtime fiancée
seeks decent, honest, reliable woman - if such a thing still exists
in this cruel world of hatchet-faced bitches. Box 53/41
Ginger-haired
Partick troublemaker, gets slit-eyed and shirty after a few
scoops, seeks attractive, wealthy lady for bail purposes, maybe more.
Box 84/87
Artistic Edinburgh woman, 53, petite, loves rainy walks on the
beach, writing poetry, unusual sea-shells and interesting
brown rice dishes, seeks mystic dreamer for companionship,
back rubs and more as we bounce along like little tumbling
clouds on life's beautiful crazy journey. Strong stomach
essential Box 12/32
Chartered
accountant, 42, seeks female for marriage. Duties will
include cooking, light cleaning and accompanying me to office
social functions. References required. No
timewasters. Box 23/45
Bad-tempered,
foul-mouthed old bastard living in a damp cottage in the arse
end of Orkney seeks attractive 21-year old blonde lady with
big chest. Box 40/27
Devil-worshiper,
Stirling area, seeks like-minded lady for wining and dining,
good conversation, dancing, romantic walks and slaughtering
dogs in cemeteries at midnight under the flinty light of a pale
moon. Box 52/07
Attractive
brunette, Maryhill area, winner of Miss Wrangler competition
at Framptons Nightclub, Maryhill, in September 1978, seeks
nostalgic man who's not afraid to cry, for long nights spent
comfort-drinking and listening to old Abba records. Please,
Please! Box 30/41
Govan
man, 27, medium build, brown hair, blue eyes, seeks alibi
for the night of February 27 between 8pm and 11.30pm
The English
strike back
The
English, the English, the English are best:
I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest!
The rottenest bits of these islands of ours
We've left in the hands of three unfriendly powers.
Examine the Irishman, Welshman or Scot;
You'll find he's a stinker like as not.
The
Scotsman is mean, as we're all well aware,
And bony and blotchy and covered with hair.
He eats salted porridge, he works all the day,
And he hasn't got bishops to show him the way.
The
English, the English, the English are best:
I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest!
The Irishman, now, our contempt is beneath,
He sleeps in his boots and he lies in his teeth,
He blows up policemen (or so I have heard),
And blames it on Cromwell and William the Third.
The
English are noble, the English are nice,
And worth any other at double the price!
The Welshman's dishonest, he cheats when he can,
And little and dark, more like monkey than man.
He works underground with a lamp in his hat,
And he sings far too loud, far too often, and
FLA-A-A-T.
And
crossing the Channel, one cannot say much
For the French or the Spanish, the Danish or Dutch;
The Germans are German, the Russians are Red,
And the Greeks and Italians eat garlic in bed.
The English are moral, the English are good,
And clever and modest and misunderstood!
And all
the world over, each nation's the same,
They've simply no notion of Playing the Game:
They argue with umpires; they cheer when they've won;
And they practise beforehand, which ruins the fun.
The
English, the English, the English are best:
So up with the English, and down with the rest!
It's not that they're wicked or naturally bad...
It's knowing they're FOREIGN that makes them so mad!
A Golfing Joke
A Catholic Priest, an Indian
Doctor, a rich Chinese businessman and a Scotsman from Glasgow were
waiting one morning for a particularly slow group of golfers in front
of them.
The Scotsman fumed, 'What's
with those bampots We're waiting fifteen minutes between shots!'
The Indian Doctor chimed in,
'I don't know, but I've never seen such poor golf!'
The Chinese businessman
called out 'Move it, time is money'!!!
The Catholic Priest said,
'Here comes the greens keeper. Let's have a word with him.'
'Excuse me, Sir!' said the
Catholic Priest, 'What's wrong with that group ahead of us? They're
rather slow, aren't they?'
The greens keeper replied,
'Oh, yes. That's a group of blind fire fighters. They lost their sight
saving our clubhouse from a fire last year, so we always let them play
for free anytime.'
The group fell silent for a
moment.
The Catholic Priest said,
'That's so sad. I think I will say a special prayer for them tonight.'
The Indian Doctor said,
'Good idea. I'm going to contact my Ophthalmologist colleague and see
if there's anything that he might be able to do for them.'
The Chinese businessman
replied, 'I think I'll donate $50,000 to the fire fighters Union in
honor of these brave souls'!!
The Scotsman said, 'Why
can't they play at night?'
Silly
Sites:
www.theonion.com
Thanks
to everyone who sent in a "funny"
False
words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with
evil ~ Socrates