A duck walks into a pub and orders a pint of beer and a ham sandwich.
The barman looks at him and says,
"Hang on! You're a duck."
"I see your eyes are working," replies the duck.
"And you can talk!" Exclaims the barman.
"I see your ears are working, too," says the duck.
"Now if you don't mind, can I have my beer and my sandwich please?"
"Certainly, sorry about that,"
Says the barman as he pulls the duck's pint.
"It's just we don't get many ducks in this pub. What are you doing around this way?"
"I'm working on the building site across the road," Explains the duck.
"I'm a plasterer."
The flabbergasted barman cannot believe the duck and wants to learn more, but takes the hint when the duck pulls out a newspaper from his bag and proceeds to read it.
So, the duck reads his paper, drinks his beer, eats his sandwich, bids the barman good day and leaves.
The same thing happens for two weeks.
Then one day the circus comes to town.
The ringmaster comes into the pub for a pint and the barman says to him
"You're with the circus, aren't you? Well, I know this duck that could be just brilliant in your circus. He talks, drinks beer, eats sandwiches, reads the newspaper and everything!"
"Sounds marvellous," says the ringmaster, handing over his business card.
"Get him to give me a call."
So the next day when the duck comes into the pub the barman says,
"Hey Mr Duck, I reckon I can line you up with a top job, paying really good money."
"I'm always looking for the next job,"
Says the duck.
"Where is it?"
"At the circus,"
Says the barman.
"The circus?"
Repeats the duck.
"That's right,"
Replies the barman.
"The circus?"
The duck asks again.
“With the big tent?"
"Yeah," the barman replies.
"With all the animals who live in cages, and performers who live in caravans?" says the duck.
"Of course," the barman replies.
"And the tent has canvas sides and a big canvas roof with a hole in the middle?" persists the duck.
"That's right!" says the barman.
The duck shakes his head in amazement, and says .. . ......
"What the fuck would they want with a plasterer??!"
A duck walks into a pub and orders a pint of beer and a ham sandwich.
The barman looks at him and says,
"Hang on! You're a duck."
"I see your eyes are working," replies the duck.
"And you can talk!" Exclaims the barman.
"I see your ears are working, too," says the duck.
"Now if you don't mind, can I have my beer and my sandwich please?"
"Certainly, sorry about that,"
Says the barman as he pulls the duck's pint.
"It's just we don't get many ducks in this pub. What are you doing around this way?"
"I'm working on the building site across the road," Explains the duck.
"I'm a plasterer."
The flabbergasted barman cannot believe the duck and wants to learn more, but takes the hint when the duck pulls out a newspaper from his bag and proceeds to read it.
So, the duck reads his paper, drinks his beer, eats his sandwich, bids the barman good day and leaves.
The same thing happens for two weeks.
Then one day the circus comes to town.
The ringmaster comes into the pub for a pint and the barman says to him
"You're with the circus, aren't you? Well, I know this duck that could be just brilliant in your circus. He talks, drinks beer, eats sandwiches, reads the newspaper and everything!"
"Sounds marvellous," says the ringmaster, handing over his business card.
"Get him to give me a call."
So the next day when the duck comes into the pub the barman says,
"Hey Mr Duck, I reckon I can line you up with a top job, paying really good money."
"I'm always looking for the next job,"
Says the duck.
"Where is it?"
"At the circus,"
Says the barman.
"The circus?"
Repeats the duck.
"That's right,"
Replies the barman.
"The circus?"
The duck asks again.
“With the big tent?"
"Yeah," the barman replies.
"With all the animals who live in cages, and performers who live in caravans?" says the duck.
"Of course," the barman replies.
"And the tent has canvas sides and a big canvas roof with a hole in the middle?" persists the duck.
"That's right!" says the barman.
The duck shakes his head in amazement, and says .. . ......
"What the fuck would they want with a plasterer??!"
Wins first prize in the “Give an old joke a home” competition. Still funny though.
An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he smelt the aroma of his favourite pan fried drop scones wafting up the stairs. He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom with even greater effort. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones. Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Scottish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon
Comments
Had to work 20hours a day in a mill and got scurvy.
Why was 6 afraid of 7?
Because 7 8 9.
That’s the punchline sorted…😢
”sure” I said. “Put me down for Sailing by Rod Stewart” !!
Goan, tell us another.
An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he smelt the aroma of his favourite pan fried drop scones wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom with even greater effort. Gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs. With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Scottish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon
She said.......
"F... off, they're for the funeral."