Saturday Satire : The Sons

Four old Catholic women sit and brag about their sons. The first Catholic woman tells her friends, "My son is a priest. When he walks into a room, everyone calls him 'Father'."

The second Catholic woman chirps, "My son is a bishop. Whenever he walks into a room, people call him 'Your Grace'."

The third Catholic mother says, "My son is a cardinal. Whenever he walks into a room, he's called 'Your Eminence'."

The fourth Catholic woman says, "My incredibly handsome son is 6' 2 with broad, square shoulders, good manners and impeccable style. Whenever he walks into a room, women say, 'Oh my God!'"

Care in the Community

I am not often given to rants, well not publicly anyway.

I was listening to the news on the radio this morning where they were discussing the state of hospitals and how so many beds are blocked by the elderly; the suggestion to solve the problem is easy, keep them in their own homes or community.

These are amongst the most fragile of our community, people who have served their country for years only to find out the golden promise of a caring NHS is to say you are occupying beds required for more important people than you.

Knowing a lot of the elderly, they will take it on the chin, not complain and die like good citizens relieving the country of the burden of paying pensions/winter fuel allowances for them and releasing a few beds for more deserving causes such as those who use the NHS as a fly-in service.

It might have had the reputation of being a caring service, and certainly when it was set up in the post war it was incredibly different to what had gone before, now we are reducing it to less than it was pre-NHS as relatives are working to pay the bills and won't be available when Mum/Dad/Uncle/Aunt have need of them and that is even if they live in the same location.. with house prices going up, sometimes they have to move miles away to get accommodation.

Stop paying the benefits to those people who have just come in, if they can't support themselves for the first year as they do in Australia then we shouldn't be supporting them either... put the money saved to create a first class NHS service which actively seeks to ensure we give a good quality of life from birth to death and don't take short cuts.

Get rid of some of the fat cats in the NHS, bring back real nurses not academic nurses.. I don't disagree that education is needed, but what is needed most is the care and compassion to actively provide care. I didn't see what the problem was with the old SEN/SRN system and having a degree doesn't make you a caring nurse, just an educated one and trust me Mrs Smith who at 87 just needs help to eat her lunch doesn't care if you have a string of qualifications, just that you have time for her.

Go on - tell me I am wrong.. please 

Christmas is Cancelled

CHRISTMAS IS CANCELLED!!
T'WAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS – OLD SANTA WAS PISSED.
HE CUSSED OUT THE ELVES AND THREW DOWN HIS LIST.
MISERABLE LITTLE BRATS, UNGRATEFUL LITTLE JERKS.
I HAVE A GOOD MIND TO SCRAP THE WHOLE WORKS.

...

I'VE BUSTED MY @SS FOR DAMN NEAR A YEAR.
INSTEAD OF "THANKS SANTA" – WHAT DO I HEAR?THE OLD LADY B*TCHES CAUSE I WORK LATE AT NIGHT…
THE ELVES WANT MORE MONEY – THE RE
INDEER ALL FIGHT.

RUDOLPH GOT DRUNK AND GOOSED ALL THE MAIDS.
DONNER IS PREGNANT AND VIXEN HAS AIDS.
AND JUST WHEN I THOUGHT THAT THINGS WOULD GET BETTER,THOSE @SSHOLES FROM IRS SENT ME A LETTER.

THEY SAY I OWE TAXES – IF THAT AIN'T DAMN FUNNY.
WHO IN THE HELL EVER SENT SANTA MONEY?AND THE KIDS THESE DAYS – THEY ALL ARE THE PITS.
THEY WANT THE IMPOSSIBLE…THOSE MEAN LITTLE SH*TS.

I SPENT A WHOLE YEAR MAKING WAGONS AND SLEDS,ASSEMBLING DOLLS…THEIR ARMS, LEGS AND HEADS,I MADE A TON OF YOYO'S – NO REQUEST FOR THEM…
THEY WANT COMPUTERS AND ROBOTS…THEY THINK I'M IBM.

FLYING THROUGH THE AIR…DODGING THE TREES,FALLING DOWN CHIMNEYS AND SKINNING MY KNEES.
I'M QUITTING THIS JOB…THERE'S JUST NO ENJOYMENT.
I'LL SIT ON MY FAT @SS AND DRAW UNEMPLOYMENT.

THERE'S NO CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR…NOW YOU KNOW THE REASON…
I FOUND ME A BLONDE. I'M GOING SOUTH FOR THE SEASON!!!!

Saturday Satire : Dr Smith's Clinic

A flat-chested young lady went to Dr. Smith about enlarging her breasts Dr. Smith advised her, 'Every day after your shower, rub your chest and say, 'Scooby doobie doobies, I want bigger boobies!'
She did this faithfully for several months!

 To her utter amazement she grew terrific D-cup boobs!

One morning she was running late, got on the bus, and in a panic realized she had forgotten her morning
ritual.
...

Frightened she might lose her lovely b00bs if she didn't recite the little rhyme, she stood up in the middle aisle of the bus, closed her eyes and said, 'Scooby doobie, doobies, I want bigger boobies.'

A guy sitting nearby looked at her and asked, 'Oh! Are you a patient of Dr. Smith’s?

'Yes I am... How did you know?'

He winked and replied, " Hickory dickory dock

Stress Management

Subject: an eight-step stress management technique. Just in case you've had a rough day, here is an eight-step stress management technique recommended in the latest psychological texts.

Useful For :Stress Management;

1. Picture yourself near a stream.

2. Birds are softly chirping in the cool mountain air.

3. No one but you knows your secret place.

4. You are in total seclusion from the hectic world.

5. The soothing sound of a gentle waterfall fills the air with a cascade of serenity.

6. The water is crystal clear.

7. You can easily make out the face of the person you're holding underwater.

8. See? You're smiling already.

Saturday Satire : Blonde Thinking

Blonde was leaving her friends house in Gala last night - opened the door - seeing all the rain and flooding - friend says to Blonde - you must stay here tonight - wait a minute I'll go and make up the spare room! 

Half an hour later she came back down stairs to find her Blonde friend dripping wet "Why are you soaking wet?" Blonde replied "Aw - if we're having a sleepover I nipped home for my jammies!!!

Saturday Satire : Grandad

A woman in a supermarket happens upon a grandfather and his badly behaved three-year-old grandson.

It's obvious to her that grandad has his hands full with the child screaming for sweets in the sweet aisle, biscuits in the biscuit aisle, same for fruit, cereal and soft drinks in their respective aisles. Meanwhile, grandad is working his way around, saying in a controlled voice, "Easy Edward, we won't be long. Easy, boy."

Another outburst, and she hears grandad calmly say, "It's okay, Edward. Just a couple more minutes and we'll be out of here. Hang in there, boy."



At the checkout, the little terror is throwing items out of the trolley, and grandad, again in a controlled voice, says, "Edward, Edward, relax, don't get upset. We'll be home in five minutes. Stay cool, Edward."

Very impressed, the woman goes outside where grandad is loading his shopping and the boy into the car. "You know, it's none of my business, but you were amazing in there. I don't know how you did it. That whole time, you kept your composure, and no matter how loud and disruptive he got, you just calmly kept saying things would be okay. Edward is very lucky to have you as his grandad."

"Thanks very much," said grandad, "but I'm Edward, the little so-and-so is called Jack."

I Wish...

that people would be kinder to others

that politicians would work together and unite in getting this country back on its feet

that the services, army, navy and raf would be respected not reviled

that fireworks would be only licenced for the few days around November 5th

that drivers would be more careful around other road users, particularly motorcycles

that the homeless would be able to get shelter

that the emergency services would be treated with respect, forget the prank calls it could be someone's life

that the elderly be given the care and help they need, so they don't go cold and hungry

that for one day a year we respect the fallen of previous conflicts and the sacrifice they made so that we might be able to speak freely
.
.
.
what would you add?

Why are they selling Poppies Mummy?
Selling poppes in town today,
The poppies, child, are flowers of love
for those brave men who marched away

But why have they chosen a poppy, Mummy?
Why not a beautiful rose?
Because my child, men fought and died
In the fields where the poppies grow.

But why are the poppies so red, Mummy?
Why are the poppies so red?
Red is the colour of blood, my child,
The blood that our soldiers shed.

The heart of the poppy is black Mummy.
Why does it have to be black?
Black, my child, is the symbol of grief
for the men who never came back.

But why, Mummy, are you crying so?
Your tears are giving you pain.
My tears are my fears for you my child,
For the world is forgetting again.

(Author unknown)

Saturday Satire : Three Convicts

Three convicts - an Englishman, an Irishman, and a Scotsman, were on their way to prison.

They were each allowed to take one item with them to help them occupy their time while incarcerated. On the bus, the Scotsman turned to the Englishman and said, "So pal - whadda bring with yer?"

The Englishman pulled out a box of paints and stated that he intended to paint anything he could. He wanted tobecome the "Picasso of Prison". Then he asked the Scotsman, "So, my good man -what did you bring?"

The Scotsman pulled out a deck of cards and grinned and said, "I brought cards. I can play poker, solitaire, gin, and any number of games."

The Irish convict was sitting quietly aside, grinning to himself. The other two took notice and the Englishman asked, "Why are you so smug? What did you bring?"

The Irishman pulled out a box of tampons and smiled. He said, "I brought these."

The other two were puzzled and asked, "What can you do with those?"

He grinned and pointed to the box and said, "Well according to the box, I can go horseback riding, swimming, roller-skating...............

FSID

A very good cause, and you can find out more details here :

a friend of mine fundraises for this charity and has a number of items on ebay to raise funds, see here

I think it is a wonderful cause, and would love you all to support it by looking at the items and perhaps bidding on one or two..

a paperclip, just an ordinary silver paperclip went for over £5.00 and the lovely items on here are too nice to sell for less than this and many of them could be your christmas presents to others this year.

Hopefully you will support it as the auction items end tomorrow,

Saturday Satire : The Contractor

A woman wants the inside of her house painted and she calls a contractor in to help her. They wander around the house, and she points out the colors she wants. She says, "Now, in the living room, I'd like to have a neutral beige, very soft and warm."

The contractor nods, pulls out his pad of paper and writes on it.
 
 Then he goes to the window, leans out and yells, "Green side up!"

The woman is most perplexed but she lets it slide. They wander into the next room. She says, "In the dining room I'd like a light white, not stark, but very bright and airy." The contractor nods, pulls out his pad of paper and writes on it. 

 

Then he goes to the window, leans out, and yells "Green side up"!

 

 The woman is even more perplexed but still lets it slide. They wander further into the next room. She says "In the bedroom, I'd like blue. Restful, peaceful, cool blue."

The contractor nods, pulls out his pad of paper and writes on it. Then once more he goes to the window, leans out and yells "Green side up"! 

 

This is too much. The woman has to ask. So she says, "Every time I tell you a color, you write it down, but then you yell out the window 'Green side up.' What on earth does that mean?"

The contractor shakes his head and says, "I have four blondes laying a lawn across the street."