Feeble Musings of a Witless Mind

Comedy, humour and wit. I hope

Cease and Desist

with 6 comments

Dear Pope Benedict XVI

We are the proprietors of all copyright in a literary work entitled The Torah (The “Work”). We have reserved all rights in the Work, which was first expressed in material form around 3,500 years ago.

It has come to our attention that your work entitled The Bible is identical/substantially similar to our copyrighted Work. Permission was neither asked nor granted to reproduce our Work and your Work therefore constitutes infringement of our rights. In terms of the Copyright Statutes, we are entitled to an injunction against your continued infringement, as well as to recover damages from you for the loss we have suffered as a result of your infringing conduct.

In the circumstances, we demand that you immediately:

1. remove all infringing content and notify us in writing that you have done so;

2. credit all infringing content to ourselves in the following manner: “Jesus never existed”;

3. pay a licensing fee in the amount of £1 trillion trillion;

4. immediately cease the use and distribution of copyrighted material;

5. deliver-up for destruction all unused or undistributed copies;

6. undertake in writing to desist from using any of our copyrighted Work in future without prior written authority from us.

We await to hear from you by no later than close of business on Judgement Day.

This is written without prejudice to our rights, all of which are hereby expressly reserved.

Yours faithfully,

The Jewish Religion

Celebrities With Small Necks

with one comment

There’s something strangely comforting about celebrities with small necks.

If you put a programme on the television, and the presenter or star has a small neck then I’ll watch it.

I’d trust a small necked person with my life.

I’d let a small necked person invest my savings.

Just think of how much money you’d save if you didn’t have a neck. I reckon I’ll buy 50 scarves in a lifetime. At £20 a pop thats £1,000… big money. 

My favourite smalled necked celebrity is Steven Van Zandt, who played Silvio Dante in the Sopranos.

Yes, he was a criminal, but I’d let him date my sister.

My second favourite cervically (apparently cervic can also pertain to a neck, as well as… you know) challenged celebrity is Sandi Toksvig. Call my Bluff was a great programme (du du du du du dudududu, du du du du du dudududu, du du du du du du du dudu, du, du, dudu, du du – that’s the theme toon) . I’m sure she’s done other things too.

The only other one I can think of is Carlos Tevez. He’s a great footballer (although not much of a looker).

Ok. I can’t actually think of any more…

Answers on a postcode please.

Talking Pigeons

with 4 comments

Pigeon 1: ‘What on earth are they doing?’

Pigeon 2: ‘Who?’

Pigeon 1: ‘Those persons over there. It must be 30 degrees and they’re running about all over the place’

Pigeon 2: ‘Oh the big persons you mean’

Pigeon 1: ‘I just don’t get it. One of them is throwing an apple at those tree branches, and the other is trying to hit the apple with a big log. If it were me, I’d be sitting on the tree branches eating the apple’

Pigeon 2: ‘You’re always eating’

Pigeon 1: ‘What do you mean I’m always eating. You’re always eating too’

Pigeon 2: ‘Well I suppose we are pigeons. They’re playing a game’

Pigeon 1: ‘That’s not a game. Strategically crapping on their heads and seeing if they notice is a game. That’s just stupidity’

Pigeon 2: ‘Honestly, they play it for fun. They call it grasshopper or something’

Pigeon 1: ‘I’d love a grasshopper right now, that’d go down really well. I’m getting a bit bored of all this seed’

Pigeon 2: ‘Me too. Anything but more seed’

A BALL FLYS STRAIGHT PAST THEM

Pigeon 1: ‘Are they trying to kill us! Is that part of their game?’

Pigeon 2: ‘I think it is. I had a great great uncle that died a month ago from one of those apples’

Pigeon 1: ‘Sorry to hear that mate’

Pigeon 2: ‘Don’t worry. He lived to good age – was getting on for four. He had 10,000 descendants by the time he went’

Pigeon 1: ‘Randy devil’

Pigeon 2: ‘It’s getting a bit dangerous here, we ought to make a move’

Pigeon 1: ‘Let’s go and swoop on a few of the people over there. Show them who’s boss’

Pigeon 2: ‘Good idea. I’m desperate for the toilet’

Dear Mr McCartney

with 2 comments

Dear Mr McCartney,

I am writing this letter to invite you to a forthcoming meeting of the Risby WI. It will be held in the Risby Village Hall on Thursday 17 March and we would be most grateful if you were able to attend.

We will be holding a pie baking competition in advance of the meeting, and so you are more that welcome to have your choice of the leftovers. However, it is unlikely that any of the pies will be vegetarian and so I will arrange for some cheese sandwiches to be made. The cheese will be rennet free.

The topic of discussion for March will be reincarnation and the afterlife. Given your religious experiences with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, and the fact that you died in 1966, we thought you would be an ideal guest speaker.

We will not be requiring you to perform as we have a limited amount of time for the meeting, and the general consensus amongst the group is that your voice is not up to the standard it used to be.

I look forward to your response.

Yours willingly,

Jane Burrows

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_is_dead

Talking Bins

with one comment

 

Black bin = general waste bin (plastic, etc.)
Green bin = green waste recyling bin (vegetable peelings, etc.)

 

Green bin: ‘I am getting sick of this now. They’re always feeding you. I get hardly anything’

Black bin: ‘What can I say mate. They just can’t resist me’

Green bin: ‘But you hardly like vegetables’

Black bin: ‘Well. You know what my appetite is like. I’ll never say no to a bit more’

Green bin: ‘All I ever get is grass cuttings. I hate grass cuttings, and I don’t even get any of them this time of year’

Black bin: ‘You’d be glad of grass if you were a cow’

Green bin: ‘Do I look like I have four stomachs?’

Black bin: ‘Cheer up mate’

Green bin: ‘Cheer up. CHEER UP! What have I got to be cheery about?’

Black bin: ‘Well it could be worse’

Green bin: ‘How could it be worse?’

Black bin: ‘Well – you heard about the green guy down the road who got burnt out on Wednesday night’

Green bin: ‘That was truly awful. I heard they had to put him out of his misery’

Black bin. ‘Yeah, there was no saving him after that, but you haven’t heard the worst of it. His owner cut him up into tiny pieces, and fed him to their black bin’

Green bin: ‘They forced the black bin to eat his best mate. Disgusting. Where’s the humanity’

Black bin: ‘He’s struggling to cope with it. He’s become hollow inside’

Green bin: ‘So he’s been emptied now then?’

Black bin: ‘I meant figuratively speaking. You know that we’re not getting emptied until Tuesday’

Cedric

with 2 comments

 

Hey Dave. Do you know you’ve got a crab in your toilet?

Sure. That’s Cedric.

What’s a crab called Cedric doing in your toilet? 

Just keeping guard. For – you know.

Not really. What’s he keeping guard for? 

Well. You hear about these mutant animals living in the sewers and I wanted some protection.

What mutant animals?

Well. Like turtles and things. There was some documentary on it.

Did these turtles do ninja mate? 

Er. Yeah. Now you come to mention it they did. There was a rat too.

That was a film you idiot. 

No. you’re wrong. It was Panorama or Watchdog or something.

It was most definitely a film .

Nope. Documentary. 

You need to see somebody mate.

I do. I’m not quite sure what to feed him you see.

Look. If he stays in there much longer he is going to die. Does it really matter what you feed him.

Of course it does. He likes it in there. He’s been there for a week now. He isn’t going to die.

So what about when you need to go? 

Go where? 

To the toilet!

Oh. I don’t like to bother him. I use the sink.

That’s sick. Even as like a sit down toilet? 

Oh no. I drive to McDonalds for that. 

Every single time? 

Well yeah. It’s got be done.

How long are you planning to keep him?

Well. I am getting a bit concerned he may be getting bored, so I thought I might get another one.

What do you mean another one. 

Well. I’ll get another crab and they can take it in turns. 12 hour shifts. When they aren’t working they can go into the bath. I’ve put some sand and rocks in there.

Mate. I think I ought to call the doctors. 

Why? Are you feeling ill or something. 

Er. Yeah. Something like that. Why don’t you come and have a sit on the sofa and I’ll just get the doctor round.

Sure mate. Sure.

Diary of an Obsessive Compulsive

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Closed the door.

Locked the door.

Opened the door.

Closed the door.

Locked the door.

Turned away from the door and turned back again to push the door to check if it was actually locked.

Took out a piece of paper and a pen from my pocket. Leaned the paper against the door and wrote “this door is locked” to prove to myself that the door was locked.

Walked away again, got half way down the street to the shops.

Panicked that the door might not be locked, and so turned around and walked back to the house to check if the door was locked.

The door seemed locked, but thought I’d better open it and shut it and lock it again to make sure.

Walked away. Walked back to the door and leaned the same scrap of paper against the door and wrote underneath my existing note “this door is now most definately locked”.

Walked away. Headed to the shops.

Got to the shops.

Purchased some bleach, window cleaner, surface wipes, surface cleaner, air freshener, new mop head, sponges, cloths, dusters, polish, toilet duck, toilet wipes.

Left the shop to go home to clean the house again.

Panicked that I had forgotten to put my wallet back into my trousers. Couldn’t find wallet in trousers. Adrenaline flowing, rush of blood to the head.

Eventually found wallet in coat pocket. 

Headed home.

Stopped half way. Panicked that I had forgottten to put debit card back into wallet and had left it in chip and pin. Got wallet out of my coat pocket and checked that debit card was present.

Debit card was present. Headed home.

Got home.

To my great suprise, as it had been haunting me in the shops, I found the door to be locked.

Shit! Forgot to get washing powder.

Closed the door.

Locked the door…