I was flying through the sky the other day with some blades of grass
when I came across this rather interesting publication wearing a
housecoat ...
A CHILD'S STORY
It was a warm summer's evening and little Timmy Tittlemonger, the
scampering water-rat, was digging a hole to bury a dead wasp he'd
recently killed with an old cup handle. When all of a sudden, little
Johnny Humbug The Bumlebee buzzed along in his army jeep made of acorns
and sesame seeds and powered by buttercup gas.
"Oh ZZ, Timmy ZZ," cried Johnny Humbug. "You must ZZ help me ZZZ, my
uncle Tommy Truffles, who as you know is a ZZZ bluebird, has got his
wing lodged under the pendulously skinned area 'twixt udder and inner
thigh ZZZ of Old Mrs Plumpton the cow of Willoughby Chase."
"Oh calamity!" ejaculated Timmy. "I'll bring my oxy-acetylene welding
equipment made from blueberries and water-lillies, and my helmet from
strawberry pips and puff pastry, that should do the trick!"
So off they scampered to the scene of the wing-lodgement incident. No
sooner had they arrived, when they saw old Farmer Partridge approaching
the wing-enlodgement area with Randy Old Albert, the breeding bull,
ready for his Sunday mounting.
"Oh crikey!" buzzed Johnny Humbug, the buzzy bumblebee. "We must hurry
in order to effect a clean dislodgement before Old Albert begins to
service stroke sire."
They quickly jumped on the back of Young Lenny The Trout's elderberry
powered helicopter, first checking if he had his pilot's licence made
from celery leaves and Edam cheese rind, and off they shot, straight to
the epicentre of the wing-enlodgement brouhaha.
"Oh, oh!" suggested Uncle Tommy Truffles, the wing-lodged bluebird,
and they swiftly erected a canopy over the area made famous by the
wedged wing, in order for them to work in the artificial light of
cabbage leaf, as it was pleasant to do so.
After initial scaffolding was completed, they swiftly began to bore
test-holes in Old Mrs Plumpton's udder, to release pertinant gases and
salient juices. By this time, Old Albert had begun the bonding ceremony
and started to raise his hoofs in order to achieve an effective grip on
old Mrs P.
There was no time for extra test-drilling, and Little TImmy
Tittlemonger the water-rat unhesitatingly rammed a sharpened celery
stalk into the cow's lactic bag.
"Sploosh!" Out came a torrential gush of gorgeous white spume, tossing
them to the ground like so many petals from a blossoming cherry tree.
"Oh lovely!" insisted Uncle Tommy Truffles, the previously wing-lodged
bluebird. "How can I thank you enough?"
And they filled their acorn cups with milk from the cow.
"What queer-tasting milk this is!" challenged Timmy Tittlemonger, and
by the spent look on Old Albert's face, I think he was probably right,
wasn't he, children?
The *BIG* Joke File!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A selection of jokes from rn that I compiled,hope they brighten your day?!
A collague of mine is a minor hodge-podge of indie-tehno-manchester-
rave-on-hopalong-hiphopping "fun" and today he presented me with the
following...
REPLIES PLEASE TO cpejpm1@clust.hw.ac.uk
...and not to me.
W H Y C O P S H A T E Y O U <<<<&l <
-if you have to ask get out of the way-
Have you ever been stopped by a traffic cop and, while he was
writing a ticket or giving you a warning, you got the feeling that
he would just love to yank you out of the car, right through the
window, and smash your face into the front fender?...
