Wooden Spoon

 

  Back in the day how did parents check how good a wooden spoon would be for beating their kids?

  -I’m looking for a spoon that’s good for stirring, wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more.

  -Oh yes we have the latest Model wooden spoon, but to be honest, they’re no great. How old is the recipe your making? If you know what I mean

  -One is three and the other is five.

  -Then you should try this one. It’s a 1967 Japanese model. It was a favourite of Charles Manson’s father.

  -I heard about them, but didn’t think you could still get them.

  -Yamaha make remodels of them.

  -Are they really as good as people say?

  -I have a young boy here that we caught shoplifting early. We’ll try out the two different spoons on him. First we’ll use the latest model.

  The shopkeeper hit him a lash and the boys’ cries.

  -Oh that was a loud cry.

  -Now we hit him with the 67.

  The shopkeeper hit him and look of shock came over the boys face. After a few seconds the boy cried uncontrollably.

  -Did you notice the difference?

  -Yes, yes, I did. With the new one he cried immediately, but with the 67 he had that pause where he couldn’t breathe properly for the first few seconds then tears flowed.

  -Also with the new spoon his scream reached a 5.5, but with the 67 it reached 9.6.

  -I’ll take the 67.

  -A wise choice, mam.

   If they were allowed use sticks and stuff to beat children with today they would have shops to buy different types of weaponry for to beat kids.

  You could go to Ikea and check out all the different sticks and spoons made out of different types of wood.

  -Pine is okay, but it leaves its mark for a long period. If child care call around on a regular basis you’d be better off going for Ash as they marks fade quickly.

Not a very good superhero

NOT A VERY GOOD SUPERHERO

  I like superhero movies. Films like Batman, Superman, Spiderman, etc. But last night I saw a Superhero film that was a big disappointment. It was called ‘The Elephant man.’

  Now, there was a crap superhero.

 ‘I am not an animal, I am a superhero.’ Yeah. And a crap one at that.

 The film was ridiculous. He had no super powers. There was nothing special about him at all.

  Most superheroes can fly or leap high, but this fellow could barely move, never mind fly. He even had a limp. He was so bad; he even had a cane to help him around the place.

  At first I thought the cane was going to be a super cane like one Doctor Doom or Skeletor has. But it wasn’t, it was strictly there for the purpose of aiding him in his limited walking skills.

  His costume has awful. It consisted of a long dirty trench coat, an old style potato bag with a hole cut out of the front for him to see through and his aforementioned cane. That’s not very imaginative.

  In his normal life he went by the name of John Merrick and as a superhero he was called The Elephant Man. And how people didn’t know it wasn’t the same person, I’ll never know.

  John Merrick aka The Elephant Man lived in London in the late Nineteenth century. You could Imagine how pissed off the citizens of London were with him.

  “We’re at the final stage of the draw and we’ve got two cities and two superheroes left. The cities are Gotham and London and our two final remaining Superheroes are Batman and the Elephant man. Our next city is…London. And their superhero is …”

 “Please make it be Batman. Please make it be Batman, please make it be Batman”

  “The Elephant man!”

  “Ah for fu… Oh great. That’s just great.”

  Could you imagine being in a London in those days and getting into a spot of trouble?

  “Hi, is this the superhero hotline,

  ‘It is,’

  I’m hiding from an angry mob in a dumpster and it’s only a matter of minutes before they realize where I am. Could you send someone to save me?’

  ‘Okay, I’m just checking and I see that Batman is available.’

  ‘He is. That’s great.’

  ‘Could you read out your visa or laser card number and we’ll send him straight away?’

  ‘No. I don’t. I have a social welfare card if that’s any good.’

  ‘Okay we’ll see what … Oh! My mistake it seems Batman is out on a call.’

  ‘Okay, well who have you got?’

  ‘Have you ever heard of The Elephant Man?’

  ‘No, I’ve never heard of him. Is he any good?’

  ‘Oh, he’s brilliant.’

  ‘Okay, well send him then.’

  ‘Where are you now?’

  ‘I’m at the end of Newport Avenue.’

  ‘That’s good he only lives around the corner.’

  ‘So, he’ll be here in a few minutes?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t hold my breath.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Just, you know, ring an ambulance just incase.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re cracking up, beep.’

  He turns up half an hour later and you’re half beaten to death.

  ‘You took your time.’

  ‘Well, I do have a limp.’

  ‘I can see that. You must have left that out of your Superhero CV.’

  ‘That’s not very nice thing to say to someone.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry it’s just I’ve taking quite a beating here and I thought you’d be here earlier.’

  ‘I know but I got here as soon as I could.’

  ‘Forget about it. So what now?’

  ‘I rang you an ambulance.’

  ‘Did you? Thanks, thanks very much. When will they be here?’

  ‘They’re not coming. They couldn’t understand what I was saying to them.’

 

Fruity Ways

  A few months back I was driving along the M50 to Dublin and on the side of the road I saw a sign that read – ‘For sale – Award winning Fruit’. I was hungry so I decided to pull in and buy a few bits and pieces.

  To my surprise it wasn’t the award-winning fruit I was thinking of. Instead of their being juicy strawberries and ripe bananas, there were all different types of fruit with trophies to prove they had all won awards.

  There was a Banana, signing autographs, that had won best new writer, for his book ‘In Storage’. There was an Orange that had won a medal for bravery. His owner told me he got it for saving a child in a house fire, there were pictures to prove it.

  But the pick of the bunch was a strawberry that had won strongest fruit of the year award. I bought him for 50 euro.

  He was a great help to have. He coud jack up your car, open up a jar of pickles, etc. He took out the strain of the usual annoying tasks we find ourselves confronted with from time to time. But sadly his age has began to show lately and he has grown mouldy in places. I know the inevitable is going to happen and there will come the day I will have to throw him into the compost bin and that day will be a sad day.

  I’ve drove up the M50 from time to time to see could I buy another strawberry like Billy, but no luck. And just last week I  had to give up my search as I found out Billy came from a line of fruit that was being trafficked in from foreign country. 

  What has our country come to I ask

What’s in a name

WHAT’S IN A NAME

In October 1649 a man called Oliver Cromwell laid siege to various towns in Ireland slaughtering thousands of innocent men women and children. To commemorate these people, what do the Irish do? We name places after him.

We don’t name the places after the people, the victims of his tyranny; we name them after the tyrant. Such places like Cromwell Forth, Cromwell Heights, etc.

Isn’t there a touch of irony here?

I don’t think if you go to buy a house in Poland you are going to be living in a neighbourhood call Hitler Heights and you’re definitely not going to going for a stroll through Hitler Avenue.

Although if the same people who name the places in Ireland had that job in Poland they would probably have a theme park in Auschwitz where all the people working there dress in nazi uniforms and if you went on the rides you had to dress in an old robe and you get a stamp on your hand.

People in Ireland even name their kids Oliver; no one on the planet names their child Adolph.

Hitler never got as far as Ireland but if he had of conquered Ireland we probably would have named a day after him to commemorate all who died under his hand.

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