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Posts Tagged ‘Britain’

“Kiamn vi atingas perfektecon ĉiutagan kiel mi far, estas bone ..i havi defiojn. Pasintjare mi neniu estas antan la celo de faranta perfekta fromaĝo sur tost. mi atingita ĉi tiu celo. Mi lek miaj antaŭbrakoj ĉiutaga al rememorig min kiel mirinda mi estas. Fromaĝo Esperanto? Senĝena por mi!”

Translation;

(*“When you achieve perfection everyday as I do, it is good to have challenges. Last year I set myself the target of making perfect cheese on toast. I achieved this aim. If I can grill cheese then I can certainly teach the world to speak the same language. By Thursday tea time at the latest. Cheese to Esperanto? Not a problem for me!”)

Simon Cowell made the moon and created meat. Strangers suck his forearms.

He now wants the world to speak Esperanto.

rythmnsimon

The following is a sneak extract from the new series of Heaven’s Got Talent In Esperanto. Simon is judging God’s plate spinning act,

“Dio, la malfacileco mi havas kun via ago estas tio, ke mi ne povas vid granda mendado de telero spinners nunmomente. Certa, vi povas akiri koncerton sur Meditteranean kroz aŭ du sed sur nacia televido? mi hav miaj duboj. Mi vere kredi ke vi havas aĵon pri vi kvankam Dio. Mi havas okulon por ĉi tiuj aferoj! Mia konsilo al vi estas tio, ke mi vid vin pli kiel giganta koko prefere ol telero spinner. Don ĝi iuj penso, reven pli malfrue en la montr kaj RAV ni!”

Dio respond, “Vi estas tre saĝa Sro Cowell,” (Cowell kapjesoj en mecenateco) “Sed eĉ vi ne povus ĉefinstiginton Novajn Infanojn Sur la Bloka reveno, ni agnosku, ke, eĉ mi ne povus estas farita tio. Tamen, mi estos revenigi kiel koko! Susan Boyle estas seksalloga! seksalloga!”

Cowell “dir-is, ke mi estas ĝoj vi hav vid sento Dio.”

Translation;

Cowell, “God, the difficulty I have with your act is that I can’t see a great demand for plate spinners at the moment. Sure, you may get a gig on a Mediterranean cruise or two but national television? I have my doubts. I genuinely believe that you have something about you though God. I have an eye for these things. My advice to you is that I see you more as a giant chicken rather than a plate spinner. Give it some thought, come back later in the show and WOW us!”

God; “You are so wise Mr Cowell,” (Cowell nods in munificence) “But even you could not mastermind New Kids On The Block’s comeback, let’s face it, even I could not have done that. However, I shall return as a chicken! Susan Boyle is sexy!sexy!”

Cowell; “I am glad you have seen sense God.”

Saluton!

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Hello Folks,

Well we are back from our trip “Down Under”. I enjoyed Australia. We stayed in the resort of Wollombonggongerianty. The town’s slogan was, “Playground For Functioning Illiterates”.

Oz water swirls in a anti-clockwise direction! Watching a floater bravely battle for survival in an unusal direction fascinated me for several hours.

“Magnetic Pole”, Bruce our taciturn concierge told me. He still mourns the death of Bon Scott.

So ever the one with a scientific mind, when I returned home I sought to place a spoon Geller like, on the forehead of Zgbniew Zzzzzgmrboniak, our local Polish builder. Safe to say the spoon fell off.

Magnetic Poles my arse.

I am back at work.

I was involved in a repossession.

Sir Amethyst Yeast-Gravel had failed to pay his Council Tax. The poor old chap is potless. Should take a leaf out of my cousin Terry’s book and consider armed robbery as a career option.

Anyway before I took possession of goods to the value of what Sir Yeast-Gravel owed, his noblilityness kindly allowed me to use his facilities.

You could tell he was posh because of the a copy of Horse and Hound as the in-store reading material.

I like horses. Legs, Necks, Tails. They’ve got the lot.

Couldn’t ride a horse though. Suffer from Stirrup Ankle.

But at least the water in the bowl swirls in the direction it should. Bloody Australians taking liberties with my evacuations. You can tell a lot about a country by the way it treats its sewage.

My Dad used to say to me, “Your stool is your best friend.” I don’t have a clue either.  Strange man was Dad. He thought he was 3 parts human and 1 part pigeon.

Bob

 

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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Here To Help – Here To Care

The Milk Of Human Kindness

Aunty Bill,

My mum sold me to the milkman in order to buy a shoe horn the other week.

Do you think she is trying to tell me something? I weigh 87 stone and recently ate our roof by mistake. It made a healthy alternative to cheese in a sandwich.

Yvonne, Winchester

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Yvonne

The shoehorn is merely a metaphor for shoe horning you out of the door and out of her life (although at 87 stone she’s got a job on her hands and will need a bigger horn or lots of smaller ones).

At least she sold you to a milkman.

Milkmen (and women) have over the years demonstrated a deep affection for fat people. Before the days of the milkfloat, they could be seen across Britain pulling the wagon while milkmen jumped on and off delivering the nation’s favourite drink.

Hopefully he will put you to work and you’ll see the pounds fall away and be in a position to replace the roof over you dear old mum’s head which you so thoughtlessly ate.

Chink! Chink!

AB

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Britain’s top Boy Band, No Direction, have revealed to Gfb’s Showbusiness Editor, Matt Finish that their new single  “We love you Jock. Och Aye The Noo We Do” The Thatcher Remix – will be released @ 7 am on Friday morning to celebrate the no vote in the Scottish Referendum.

The Single, a homage to all things Scottish also features on the B side the lively rap “Oi Salmond! Up yer bum with yer Referendum!”

The band hope to capitalise on the success of their last single, “Please Forgive Me Mr Murdoch” which featured the singing talents of long dead Larry Grayson!

George “Ozzie” Osbourne, said “We are really excited about this single. It’s really ballsy. Not like Ed Balls though. I hate him. He smells. And he doesn’t have servants! Just off to flog my fag.”

Simon Cowell said, “I am constipated with excitement about this single.”

He Is

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The Queen has pleaded with Scots to remain part of the United Kingdom. The big funnelled monarch, celebrating 600 years without a thought, is very “worried” about developments, particularly losing her holiday cottage in Balmoral.

To show her devotion to her Scottish subjects Her Royal Linerness has taken to wearing the national symbol of Scotland, the Scotch Egg.

Royal watcher, Form A-Orderly-Queue told Gfb, “Her Royal Minus is very keen that the Sweaty Socks stay part of the UK. She adores shortbread, has read all of Irvine Welsh’s novels, is addicted to Temazepan and Irn Bru is her favourite hangover cure.”

Why don’t they want wonky Prince Charlie as their next King?

charles copy

Prince Phillip has ordered tanks to be placed outside the house of Scottish firebrand and slurper of soup, Alex “Fatty” Salmond, describing him as a “Slimy sporran sniffing Jock Bastard,” to close pals.

The Prince is also worried that summers will have to be spent at Butlins in Minehead in future.

 

 

What will the Scottish People decide? Will it be life in the Faslane? Or is that the nuclear option?

Och Aye The Noo

Gfb's Travel Ace

Mammy!

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Hi Kids,

It is your duty to take drugs!

cupboard crackhead copy

 

As the Government now includes proceeds from drugs and prostitution in official statistics I am proud that my Crack habit has helped pull the country out of recession. I’m not sure how statisticians arrived at these figures (exhaustive research must have been undertaken).

Prostitution should no longer be seen as drug addled women being pimped by scum to pay for their heroin addiction but as a bold, nay noble effort to get the country back on its feet, up against a wall or in a car or in a bus shelter…..

Makes ya proud to be British!

Beats me why would Scotland wish to become independent!

Uncle Crackhead

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I was in Tesco’s rummaging amongst the mangoes with a view to buying one for my pudding this evening.  As I popped a fruit into my trolley, I felt a tad woozy and a touch fey.

I had an insatiable desire to free my people from the yoke of Roman tyranny.

The spirit of Boadicea, Queen of the Iceni had entered me!

I applied Brobat Blue woad and with my wonky wheeled trolley chariot, I sought vengeance on the spotty youth oppressing me with her inability to locate the dried apricots in the Storeroom.

She was no underpaid wage slave of questionable literacy and numeracy skills but a Roman oppressor!

I rented the air with a cry of “Death To The Romans!”

The Romans formed a Shield Wall using tins of Kidney, Baked and Borlotti Beans. The cunning curs!

Sadly my uprising came to an abrupt halt when the wonky wheel of the accursed trolley chariot fell off and I skidded to a halt by the tinned fish shelf (Pilchards on special offer by the way).

Mango anyone?

Regards,

Agnes

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