Your 'Funnies' are up early this morning just in case 'Pops' gives me another bollacking for being late! Actually, the first two aren't 'Funnies' in the joke sense - well, not many of my 'jokes' are! They are real stories from this week's Spectator written by several of their usual columnists describing their most unusual dates. The first is from Toby Young:
About 15 years ago, when I was single and living in New York, I acquired what I can only describe as a stalker. A woman took exception to a newspaper article I’d written and started bombarding me with emails. For about a year, she sent me three or four emails a day, demanding a reply. In one of these emails she claimed to be a columnist for a magazine called Chest Monthly, and that piqued my interest. So I invited her on a date. We agreed to meet in a café and she was quite difficult to spot because, contrary to my fevered imaginings, she was completely flat-chested. I asked her how she’d managed to land a job as a columnist for Chest Monthly. There was a deathly silence as it dawned on her that this was the only reason I’d asked her out. ‘Chess Monthly,’ she said, coldly. ‘Not Chest Monthly. Chess Monthly.’ She stopped emailing me after that.
The next is from Taki who, whilst he might have played tennis and karate for his country, could have shagged for Greece at the Olympics! Which makes this story all the more amusing:
It was around 1972, my father had just had his portrait painted by Salvador Dalí, an old buddy of his, and Dad and I went to the Meurice hotel in Paris where Dalí and his wife Gala unveiled it. We had champagne, Dalí and Dad cracked jokes at my expense, and then the great man asked me what I was doing with my life. I told him I was off to London to try and crack the English scene, journalist-wise, that is. ‘Eh bien, il faut que tu appel la plus jolie de tous, ma cheri…’ He gave me her telephone number and said he would ring her. Two days later, in London, I called the lady and, yes, she was free for dinner. We met at Annabel’s, where Louis, the maitre d’, gave me a hell of a table. She was blonde and beautiful. Her voice was low and she was taller than me, but what the hell. After dinner I took her to my flat in Dunraven Street nearby. Holding her hand in the cab, I noticed it to be twice the size of mine. After some more drinks at home I pounced, but just as I did, I noticed her larynx was — well — as big as a Tiger Panzer. So I fished into my wallet, pulled out a rather large bill, and asked for the truth. Was she… a man? ‘Yes, sweetie pie, I am a hell of a man and all yours,’ she or he said. I gave her a brief peck on the cheek and showed her out. That Dalí, what a card!
That's what I love about 'The Speccie', you get high culture and low life all in one superb, witty magazine - so go and treat yourself to a subscription, it's as cheap as chips!
A little girl goes to the barbershop with her dad and stands next to the chair, eating a muffin while her dad gets a haircut.
The barber smiles at her and says:
"Your gonna get hair on your muffin!
" I know," she says, "I'm gonna get tits too, you dirty old bastard."
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A GUY WAS SITTING QUIETLY READING HIS PAPER WHEN HIS WIFE WALKED UP BEHIND HIM AND WHACKED HIM ON THE HEAD WITH A MAGAZINE. 'WHAT WAS THAT FOR?' HE ASKED.
'THAT WAS FOR THE PIECE OF PAPER IN YOUR TROUSER POCKET WITH THE NAME LAURA LOU WRITTEN ON IT,' SHE REPLIED.
'TWO WEEKS AGO WHEN I WENT TO THE RACES, LAURA LOU WAS THE NAME OF ONE OF THE HORSES I BET ON, I BOUGHT YOU THOSE FLOWERS WITH THE WINNINGS, 'HE EXPLAINED.
'OH DARLING, I'M SORRY,' SHE SAID. 'I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THERE WAS A GOOD EXPLANATION.'
THREE DAYS LATER HE WAS WATCHING TV WHEN SHE WALKED UP AND HIT HIM IN THE HEAD AGAIN, THIS TIME WITH A FRYING PAN, WHICH KNOCKED HIM OUT COLD.
WHEN HE CAME TO, HE ASKED, 'WHAT WAS THAT FOR?'
'YOUR HORSE PHONED.'
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IN RESPONSE TO ALL THE RECENT E-MAILS ABOUT MY DOG:
PLEASE BE ADVISED, I AM SICK AND TIRED OF ANSWERING QUESTIONS ABOUT MY DOG!
YES, HE MAULED SIX PEOPLE WEARING BILL SHORTEN, Tony Abbot and Joe Hockey T-SHIRTS,
FOUR PEOPLE WEARING JACQUIE LAMBIE T-SHIRTS,
NINE TEENAGERS WITH PANTS HANGING PAST THEIR CRACK,
THREE FLAG BURNERS, AND A PAKISTANI TAXI DRIVER.
FOR THE LAST TIME ... THE DOG IS NOT FOR SALE !
Right, I'm off back to bed, I haven't been up so early for yonks!
