Author Topic: Fresh from the Inbox  (Read 365489 times)

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Offline miss Tchevious

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #720 on: May 26, 2011, 04:55:48 PM »
Or here.....





Online Barman

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #721 on: May 26, 2011, 04:57:20 PM »



You live behind here dont you?


 noooo: under it...
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Online Barman

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #722 on: May 26, 2011, 04:58:01 PM »
Or here.....






Feck off!  cussing:

The washer is fine!  evil:
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Offline miss Tchevious

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #723 on: May 26, 2011, 05:15:31 PM »
now now, temper temper    nonono:

Offline Pastis

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #724 on: May 26, 2011, 05:28:38 PM »
Business is booming for Irish divorce lawyers as wives take heed of Britain's Foreign Office advice  whistle:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-13559972
Like the Buddhist said to the hot dog vendor...
"Make me one with everything"

Offline Just One More

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #725 on: May 26, 2011, 05:37:29 PM »
Wahey!!  drumroll:
LiFe - It's an "F" in lie

Offline Nick

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #726 on: May 27, 2011, 11:47:33 AM »
A Socialist, a Liberal, a Green and a Conservative walk into a bar.

“What can I get you to drink?” asks the barman.

The socialist demands to know why the bar is charging the same prices to all of its customers. “Some are wealthier than others,” he points out. “There should be a graduated price list so that those who can afford to pay more for their drinks do so and those who are poorer can still enjoy a full range of beverages at a subsidised price.”
“How would I know who was poor and who was wealthy?” The barman asks.
“The government would need to control bank accounts,” the Socialist says, warming to his role. “Then it would know everyone’s income and outgoings and could give each person a rating which would coincide with their ability to pay. Traders would ask for a government-provided ID card which would include such details as yearly income and would enable you to apply the correct prices.”
“People would just forge the cards, or borrow them from other people,” the Barman, who has some life experience, points out.
“The cards would be biometric and very difficult to forge. And the penalties for forgery would be severe. After all, those people would essentially be stealing from the poorest in society.”
“It sounds expensive to me. All that bureaucracy and red tape and legislation. And what if only poor people came to my bar? I’d be forced to give them all cheap drinks and I’d go bankrupt.”
“The bars which catered to the poor would be subsidised by the extra money made in the bars which catered to the rich,” the Socialist smiles.
“Who would organise that? And would I get my subsidy in time to pay my bills?”
“The State could appoint an independent panel which would consider such things and another body to manage the subsidy payments. You could apply for them in advance based on your expected turnover and your previous year’s records and any irregularity would be offset in the next tax period. It would be called ‘bar credits’.”
“I don’t really want to get involved in your social justice crusades. I’m just running a business here. Can’t I just do that?”
“You are an evil capitalist pig,” says the socialist venomously. “Give me a pint of bitter, please.”
“That’s £3.50,” the Barman tells him.
“Could you put it on my tab?” The Socialist suggests. “I don’t carry cash…”

The Liberal looks quite concerned and she says: “I notice that your bar seems to primarily cater only to middle-aged white men. Where are all the women? Why are there no other races represented? I cannot see a single disabled person!”
“I don’t control who comes in,” the Barman points out. “I just open up and they start to arrive.”
“But you have not created an environment conducive to multiculturalism.”
“What do you mean?” asks the barman, bemused.
“Well take that flag you have on the wall behind the bar…”
“The Cross Of St. George?”
“Yes. That just cries out ‘racist’. Couldn’t you have a different flag there?”
“But that’s the English flag. This is England.”
“This is also Europe. You could have the EU Flag up there!”
“Only if I want to get lynched after closing time,” the Barman mutters under his breath.
“What?” The Liberal demands.
“Nothing. Nothing,” the Barman placates her.
“Your menu here,” she continues. “Sausages and Mash. Beef & Ale Pie!” These choices are hostile to multiple religions!”
“There’s a Ploughman’s lunch!” the Barman says plaintively. “That’s just cheese, bread and some pickles.”
“Hey!” The Socialist points his stubby finger angrily, “Are you suggesting ploughmen can’t eat the same as everybody else? Workers have to be relegated to the vegetarian option?”
“Look,” The Barman sighs. “Do you want a drink or not?”
“Tap water with ice please,” the Liberal says. “I’d have wine, but I’m vice-chairing a social engagement committee on Friday and I wouldn’t want my decision-making to be impaired.”
“But today is Tuesday?” the Barman points out.

“The problem with beer,” says the Green. “Is that it’s brewed with hops which are fuel-intensive when farmed. When making menu choices we must consider the global climate repercussions.”
“What a load of pompous claptrap,” the Barman mutters.
“What?” the Green demands.
“I said, what a clever and erudite observation. So what would you like, then?”
“Do you have anything organic?”
“Orange juice?” the Barman suggests.
“Is it fair trade?”
The Barman frowns. “I’ve offered it. If you pay for it, then its fair.”
“No! Does it have the fair trade brand which shows that those who produced it have earned a fair wage for their labour?”
“You sound just like that Socialist guy,” the Barman observes.
“No, no. We’re quite different,” the Green demands quickly.
“What about apple juice then?” the Barman says. “It’s Fair Trade – because it was grown in the next village and locally squeezed.”
“But pesticides were used, I’m sure,” the Green frowns dangerously.
“I have no idea,” the Barman says. “I can’t taste any pesticides in it.”
“Let me taste!” the Green demands. The barman pours him a small sample.
“Yes!” the Green’s eyes twinkle as he sips, revealing barely controlled but oh-so-gentle fury. “Chlorpyrifos, Mancozeb and a touch of Azinphos-methyl! I knew it.”
“Okay. If you say so,” the Barman sighs. “So, let me make a guess. Tap water?”
“Tap water?” the Green shrieks. “With all the chemicals and additives that are pumped into that? I don’t think so.”
“Well, I have a rain barrel out back,” the Barman laughs. “Want me to draw you a pint from that baby?”
The Green looks eager.
“But … but … I was joking…”

The Conservative approaches and the barman rounds on him angrily.
“And what do YOU want? Fair trade, equal rights, working class, union-sanctioned, multicultural, state-controlled, climate-friendly, organic, subsidised, multi-ethnic, gender-neutral something or other?”
“I’ll have a pint of lager and a packet of crisps please. And get one for yourself. You look like you need it.”
Warning: May contain Skub
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Online Barman

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #727 on: May 27, 2011, 11:56:47 AM »
 lol: lol: lol:
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Offline Uncle Mort

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #728 on: May 27, 2011, 07:41:51 PM »
Fresh from my shower, I stand in front of the mirror complaining to my husband that my breasts are too small. Instead of characteristically telling me it's not so, he uncharacteristically comes up with a suggestion.

"If you want your breasts to grow, then every day take a piece of toilet paper and rub it between them for a few seconds."

Willing to try anything, I fetch a piece of toilet paper and stand in front of the mirror, rubbing it between my breasts.

"How long will this take?" I asked.

"They will grow larger over a period of years," my husband replies.

I stopped.

" Do you really think rubbing a piece of toilet paper between my breasts every day will make my breasts larger over the years?"

Without missing a beat he says "Worked for your butt, didn't it?"

He's still alive, and with a great deal of therapy he may even walk again.

Stupid, stupid man.

Offline Nick

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #729 on: May 27, 2011, 07:43:14 PM »
Affs cussing: cussing: cussing: cussing:
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Offline Uncle Mort

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #730 on: May 27, 2011, 07:48:40 PM »
Alzheimer's!  eeek: eeek: eeek: eeek:

Offline Nick

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #731 on: May 27, 2011, 07:49:46 PM »
 happy100
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Offline Nick

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Offline Uncle Mort

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Re: Fresh from the Inbox
« Reply #734 on: May 29, 2011, 10:09:10 AM »
On a cold, wintery Sunday, after church, a stranger goes up to the minister and says, "I must confess, I came to your church to steal a hat. But when I heard your sermon on the Ten Commandments, I changed my mind."

"Oh, you mean the commandment 'Thou shalt not steal'?" the minister replied.

"No," the man said, "When you got to the one about adultery... I remembered where I left my hat."