A little mid-week humour to lighten the mood

Last Irish one, promise…

Gerry and Paddy enter a pet shop in Dingle, and walk over to the bird section. Gerry says to Paddy, ‘Dat’s dem.’

The pet shop owner comes over and asks if he can help.

‘Yeah, we’ll take four of dem dere little budgies in dat cage up dere,’ says Gerry.

The owner puts the budgies in a cardboard box.

They pay for the birds, leave the shop and get into Gerry’s truck to drive to the top of Connor Pass.

At Connor Pass, Gerry looks down the 1000-foot drop and says, “Dis looks like a grand place.”

He takes two of the budgies out of the box, puts one on each shoulder and jumps off the cliff.

Paddy watches as the budgies fly off and Gerry falls all the way to the bottom, killing himself stone dead.

Looking down at the remains of his best pal, Paddy shakes his head and says, “Fook dat. Dis budgie jumping looks too fook’n dangerous for me!”

Moments later Seamus arrives up at Connor Pass. He’s been to the pet shop too and walks up to the edge of the cliff carrying a cardboard box in one hand and a shotgun in the other.

“Hi, Paddy, watch dis,” says Seamus.

He takes a parrot out from the box and lets him loose.

He then throws himself over the edge of the cliff with the gun.

Paddy watches as half way down, Seamus takes the gun and shoots up at the parrot.

Seamus continues to plummet down and down until he hits the bottom and breaks every bone in his body.

Paddy shakes his head and says, “And I’m never trying dat parrotshooting either!”

Paddy is just getting over the shock of losing two friends when Sean appears.

He’s also been to the pet shop and is carrying a cardboard box out of which he pulls a chicken.

Sean takes the chicken by its legs and hurls himself off the cliff and disappears down and down until he splatters himself on the rocks.

Once more Paddy shakes his head.

“Fook dat, lads. First dere was Gerry with his budgiejumping, den Seamus parrotshooting… And now Sean and his fook’n hengliding!”…

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:joy::joy::joy::joy:

John Murphy
4 College Hill
Mullingar
Co. Westmeath

This, apparently is an actual letter received by the Irish Passport
Office.

Dear Sirs,

I’m in the process of renewing my passport, and I am losing the will to live. How is it that Sky Television has my address and telephone number and knows that I bought a fucking satellite dish from them back in 1995, and yet, the Government is still asking me where I was fucking born and on what date.

For fuck sake, do you guys do this by hand? My birth date you have
on my pension book, and it is on all the income tax forms I’ve filed
for the past 30 years. It is on my PPS card, my driving
license, my car insurance, on the last eight fucking passports I’ve had,
before being allowed off the plane over the last 50 years, and all
those insufferable census forms.

Would somebody please take note, once and for all, that my mother’s
name is Mary Anne, my father’s name is Robert and I’d be absolutely fucking astounded if that ever changed between now and when I die!!!

I apologise, because I’m really pissed off this morning. Between you an’ me, I’ve had enough of this shit! You send back the application form to my house, then you ask me for my fucking address!!!

What the fuck is going on? Do you have a bunch of neanderthal arseholes working there? Look at my fucking picture. Do I look like Bin Laden? I just want to go and park my arse on some nice sandy beach somewhere and would someone please tell me, why would you give a shit whether I plan on visiting a farm in the next 15 days?

Well, I have to sign off now, because I have to go to the other end of the fucking country to get another fucking copy of my birth certificate, to the
tune of €30. Would it be so complicated to have all the services in the
same spot to assist in the issuance of a new passport the same day??

Nooooooooooooo, that’d be too fucking easy and maybe make sense. You’d rather have us running all over the fuckin’ place like chickens with our heads cut off, then have to find some arsehole to confirm that it’s really me on the damn picture - you know, the one where we’re not
allowed to smile?! (bureaucratic fuckin’ morons) Hey, do you know why
we couldn’t smile if we wanted to? Because we’re totally hacked off!

Signed

An Irate Citizen.

P.S. Remember what I said above about the picture and getting someone to confirm that it’s me? Well, my family has been in this country since 1776 … I have served in the military for something over 30 years and have had full security clearances over 25 of those years enabling me to undertake highly secretive work all over the world and the n here in Ireland
… However, I have to get someone ‘important’ to verify who I am

  • you know, someone like my doctor - WHO WAS BORN AND RAISED IN FUCKING PAKISTAN !

Sincerely . . .

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Oops.

@Susannah That is brilliant, and I have copied it to my Irish/English friend just down the road. :rofl:

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It came from my friend, a solicitor in Singapore. It got through those rigid censor checks so may well be true :crystal_ball:

A question from the correct use of language section of a business forum

Q. When is it acceptable to use the phrase, “reach out” in a business email?

A. At any time provided you are, or have ever been, a member of the Four Tops.

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We’ve lived in squalor through Covid - no visitors, so no need to clean the house. :slight_smile:

Neighbours coming for aperos on Saturday.

Horrors! That means I’ve got to do three years’ of cleaning, including removing giant sized spiders and spiders’ webs.

Hold on a moment - it’s coming up to Halloween. No need to clean at all. Just say it’s decorations. :grin:

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Sue, for under €1 you can buy packs of fake web and loads of mini spiders, add some extra webs and share the spiders between the real and fakecwebs. No one will notice :rofl: :japanese_ogre:

PS sounds like my house, although now I’m full time DH taking over and things are improving :smiling_face_with_three_hearts: . I’m SO messy!!

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As someone who spent about 12 years designing analogue modems in the dim and distant past, I can still hear the exact sequences of sounds generated by all sorts of modems when connecting. I could probably also tell you exactly which protocol was used :crazy_face: :astonished:

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On a seasonal theme.

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Did I hear someone say Elon Musk wants to be called the Chief Twit?

Did you let that sink in? :wink:

A plane is on its way to Toronto , when a blonde in economy class gets up and moves to the first class section and sits down.

The flight attendant watches her do this and asks to see her ticket.

She then tells the blonde that she paid for economy class and that she will have to sit in the back.

The blonde replies, “I’m blonde, I’m beautiful, I’m going to Toronto and I’m staying right here.”

The flight attendant goes into the cockpit and tells the pilot and the co-pilot that there is a blonde bimbo sitting in first class, that belongs in economy and won’t move back to her seat.

The co-pilot goes back to the blonde and tries to explain that because she only paid for economy she will have to leave and return to her seat.

The blonde replies, “I’m blonde, I’m beautiful, I’m going to Toronto and I’m staying right here.”

The co-pilot tells the pilot that he probably should have the police waiting when they land to arrest this blonde woman who won’t listen to reason.

The pilot says, “You say she is a blonde? I’ll handle this, I’m married to a blonde. I speak blonde.”

He goes back to the blonde and whispers in her ear, and she says, “Oh, I’m sorry.” and gets up and goes back to her seat in economy.

The flight attendant and co-pilot are amazed and asked him what he said to make her move without any fuss.

“I told her, 'first class isn’t going to Toronto.”

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The boss of a big company had to call one of his employees about an urgent problem with one of the main computers. He dialled the employee’s home phone number and was greeted with a child’s whisper, “Hello?”

Feeling put out at the inconvenience of having to talk to a child the boss asked, “Is your Daddy home?”

“Yes”, whispered the small voice.

“May I talk with him?” the man asked. To his surprise, the small voice whispered, “No.”

Wanting to talk with an adult, the boss asked, “Is your Mummy there?”

“Yes”, came the answer.

“May I talk with her?” Again, the small voice whispered, “no”.

Knowing that it was unlikely that a young child would be left home alone, the boss decided to leave a message with whoever should be watching over the child. “Is there anyone there besides you?” the boss asked the child.

“Yes” whispered the child, “A policeman”.

Wondering what a cop would be doing at his employee’s home, the boss asked, “May I speak with the policeman”?

“No, he’s busy”, whispered the child.

"Busy doing what? asked the boss.

“Talking to Daddy and Mummy and the Fireman”, came the whispered answer.

Growing concerned and even worried as he heard what sounded like a helicopter through the earpiece on the phone the boss asked, “What is that noise?”

“A hello-copper”, answered the whispering voice.

“What is going on there?”, asked the boss, now alarmed. In an awed whispering voice, the child answered, “The search team just landed the hello-copper”.

Alarmed, concerned, and more than just a little frustrated the boss asked, “Why are they there”?

Still whispering, the young voice replied along with a muffled giggle:

"They’re looking for me”.

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I don’t know whether I should have liked this joke (or laughed at it). It’s blondist. Blondeist?

Rees Witherspoon would not approve. :grin: