But I have to ask myself the question whether I would have investigated penis enlargement had it been available in the 1960’s and had I had the money to do it. As a rugby player I’ve seen a lot of dicks in my life in showers and changing rooms and I suppose if we were to place all the men in Great Britain in line from John o’Groats to Lands End with their penis flaccid I would probably find myself standing on the M5 somewhere between Bristol and Exeter. I didn’t exactly go round the showers staring at other men’s dicks although I suppose upon reflection there were probably some men who did. But I did on occasion notice and envy some quite magnificent penises. However looking up penis enlargement on the web (and I’ve never thought about this before until this very moment) I find that almost all men experience anxiety about the size or appearance of their penis at some time.
And I quote:
For most men, these feelings will pass but, for others, they can be persistent and disabling. A man's concern about his penis can lead to avoidance of sexual relationships, and even of sporting and other activities where other men might see him naked. Such men are not only embarrassed by the apparent smallness of their penis, but frequently also feel ashamed and silly about their anxiety, too.
Apparently men generally fall into two groups regarding their penis size and appearance. Some men have a short, fat, rather elastic penis when flaccid that stretches and expands very considerably during erection. Others have a long, impressive-looking flaccid penis that barely changes in size when erect, and simply becomes more rigid. Men in the first group who see men from the second group naked in the showers incorrectly think that they have an abnormally small penis. But both are normal, just different.
Obesity and/or very thick growth of pubic hair may make the penis appear smaller. Obese men develop a pad of fat in the pubic area and the flaccid penis becomes buried in it. (Well I certainly suffer from that). Weight reduction will improve appearance, as will neatly trimming excessive pubic hair. Very obese men might not be able to see their penis at all, because of their large and pendulous abdomen and men should also remember that their penis will always look shorter when they look down at it, compared with looking straight at their penis in a mirror or across the changing room at another man's penis. This is a simple optical illusion.
So what is a normal penis and what is an abnormally small penis? The flaccid penis varies considerably in size, ranging from less than 5cm to over 10cm. The size of the flaccid penis does not determine the size of the erect penis. Research suggests that the average size, measured from the pubic skin (precisely where the penis joins the body) to the opening (urinary orifice) at the tip, is about 8.8 cm. The average size of the erect penis, measured in the same way as above, is around 12.9cm (5.2 inches). No widely accepted definition of what is an abnormally small penis exists, but guidelines for selection of men for penile augmentation surgery recommend that only those with a flaccid length of less than 4cm (1.6 inches) or erect length of less than 7.5cm (3 inches) should be considered for surgery. So that would leave me out.
So does penis size really matter? The answer to this question rather depends upon your perspective. If you believe that you have a small penis, it may matter very much to you, however unimportant the issue might seem to others. Some men become quite obsessed by the size of their penis and will consider almost anything, including surgery, to enlarge it. Most of these men will have a penis that falls within the suggested normal size range, but that does not always make them feel normal or better about themselves. Both they, and their doctor, should recognise that this is primarily a psychological problem, connected to physical and sexual self-image, rather than a physical handicap. Researchers have repeatedly shown that penis size does not affect partner satisfaction during sexual intercourse. Some men born with a severely shortened and malformed penis, even less than 5cm (2 inches) long when erect, enjoy very satisfactory sex with their partners and women are much more likely to be bemused by men's anxieties surrounding penis size, than amused by its actual size.
From ancient times, men have tried a wide variety of treatments to enlarge the penis. Because of the sensitive nature of the problem, and because of the surrounding shame and embarrassment, concerned men are very vulnerable to exploitation by the unscrupulous. While most doctors and other healthcare professionals act in a highly ethical manner, a few individuals will sell remedies and even perform surgery that they know has no evidence of long-term benefit. Some of them have been barred from practice as a consequence of their unethical behaviour. Others are still in practice, waiting to exploit the unsuspecting by relying on the fact that they are likely to be too embarrassed to complain to the authorities about an unsatisfactory outcome. So surgery can be of benefit to some men, but certainly not all of them.
So now we know!
And from all this we can determine that breast implant and penile enlargement surgery can easily go wrong. Penis enlargement can seriously affect erection, breast implants can split without warning. So if you’ve got a dick that doesn’t work after surgery, or if you’ve got implants that have malfunctioned – well mate the problem is yours. You should have left well alone in the first place, and whatever you might think you don’t deserve to have me pay to have your tits repaired.
But there is a sequel to all this if your partner has kicked you into touch because your baps have turned to pancakes, or your member has become unpopular. There is a web site called www.neverlikeditanyway.com where you can post goods for sale and include the personal story behind the item. People tell as well as sell. Here you can get $400 dollar earrings for less than $200; $17,000 dollar engagement rings for $10,000.
A bargain by anyone’s book!
With regard to the French piece in last month’s Rambling’s I must advise both Messrs Reilly of Philadelphia and Broadbent of Somewhere in France that the piece was actually written by Rod Liddle of the Sunday Times. I admit to not putting (sic) behind it because I purposely wanted to see if there would be a response. But I did make it clear at the beginning, and again at the end, that I was quoting him. So my good friends Reilly and Broadbent should really send their letters of approval and disgust to him at The Sunday Times. But I will certainly accept with great thanks the comments made by Mr. Reilly relating to a misspent youth along with those from Messrs Hall, Jones and Wilson. Very kind of you all, including Mr. Broadbent, who obviously cares deep down.
Meanwhile this last month Rod Liddle has continued his understandable attack on the French. Apparently he held a party the other night to celebrate the downgrading of France by an international credit agency. He got the neighbours round, opened a few cans and hired a dwarf with a French accent to be President Nicholas Sarkozy. They taunted him and re-enacted several famous French military retreats. Apparently it was a real laugh and something they intend to do again when the French are downgraded further in the summer. We must (and this is me speaking now) all bear in mind that the French don’t like the English and the English don’t like the French; although I have to admit to supporting the French rugby team whenever they play Wales. No Englishman over 55 in his right mind could ever support Wales at rugby after the gloating we had to endure during the 1970’s when they were admittedly the best rugby team in Europe by a street. It wasn’t the fact they were best that I objected to, it was the constant bragging we had to endure that really got up my nose. We English of course; we never brag do we? Other than that the Welsh are lovely people – but they must continue losing at rugby please to be so.
Talking of bragging; how many times have you heard a politician, or anyone
else for that matter, use the word ‘billion’ when describing something?
It’s a difficult number to comprehend, but one advertising agency recently
did a good job of putting that figure into some perspective in one of its releases.
A billion seconds ago it was 1959.
A billion minutes ago Jesus was alive
A billion hours ago our ancestors were living in the Stone Age.
A billion days ago no mammal walked the earth on two feet.
A billion pounds ago was only 13 hours and 12 minutes at the rate our government is spending our taxes.
Here’s a list of some of the taxes we pay
Stamp Duty, Tobacco Tax, Corporate Income Tax, Income Tax, Council Tax, Unemployment Tax, Fishing License Tax, Petrol/Diesel Tax, Inheritance Tax (tax on top of tax), Alcohol Tax, V.A.T., Marriage License Tax, Property Tax, Service charge taxes, Social Security Tax, Vehicle License Registration Tax, Vehicle Sales Tax, Workers Compensation Tax
But hardly any, if any, of these taxes existed 100 years ago when our nation was one of the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no national debt. We had the largest middle class in the world. Mum stayed home to raise the kids whilst dad was allowed to discipline them. A criminal’s life was uncomfortable. What the hell happened? 'Political correctness, politicians, or both?
Frankly I blame the French!
Perhaps Allen Stewart Konigsberg got it right when he said, "More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly."
So let’s, after a fair old bit of rambling, end on a happy note! I got
the following link from a very dear old friend just after the New Year started.
It’s worth a look.
Fixture List for Kimber’s Men and Joe Stead
Feb 4th (KM) Square Chapel Theatre, Halifax. Matinee and Evening.
Feb 7th (Joe) Brighouse Third Age Forum, Waring Green Centre, Brighouse. Robeson.
Feb 8th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Bridge with Michael Chapman
Feb 11th (KM) Rose Theatre, Edge Hill University, Ormskirk, Lancashire
Mar 3rd (KM) Recording new compact disc at Foel Studios
Mar 4th (KM) Recording new compact disc at Foel Studios
Mar 8th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Bridge with Chris Woods
Mar 10th (KM) Oxenhope Primary School, Oxenhope, West Yorkshire.
Mar 17th (KM) Recording new compact disc at Foel Studios
Mar 18th (KM) Recording new compact disc at Foel Studios
Apr 11th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Bridge – Sam Carter
Apr 20th (KM) Clee St Margaret Village Hall, Near Ludlow, Shropshire.
Apr 21st (KM) Perranporth Shanty Fest 2012 - Cornwall
Apr 22nd (KM) Perranporth Shanty Fest 2012 – Cornwall
May 4th (KM) Sheepscombe Village Hall, Gloucestershire.
May 5th (KM) Minstead Village Hall, Hampshire.
May 9th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Bridge – Martyn Joseph
May 19th (KM) Deal Royal Marine’s Association.
Jun 13th (KM) The Works – Sowerby Bridge
Jun 22nd (KM) Teignmouth Folk Festival, Devon.
Jun 23rd (KM) Teignmouth Folk Festival, Devon.
Jun 24th (KM) Teignmouth Folk Festival, Devon.
Jul 21st (KM) Music on the Marr, Town Foot Farm, Castle Carrock, Cumbria.
Jul 27th (KM) Port Isaac with Fishermen’s Friends – To be confirmed
Jul 28th (KM) The King Harry Ferry – St Mawes-Truro-Falmouth
Aug 4th (KM) Arbroath Sea Festival
Aug 5th (KM) Arbroath Sea Festival
Aug 17th (KM) Fano Festival of the Sea – Denmark.
Aug 18th (KM) Fano Festival of the Sea – Denmark.
Aug 19th (KM) Fano Festival of the Sea – Denmark.
Aug 24th (KM) Shrewsbury Folk Festival
Aug 25th (KM) Shrewsbury Folk Festival
Aug 26th (KM) Shrewsbury Folk Festival
Aug 27th (KM) Shrewsbury Folk Festival
Sep 12th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Brdg - Chris Newman & Máire Ní Chathasaigh
Oct 10th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Bridge
Nov 14th (KM) The Works, Sowerby Bridge with The Wilson Family
Sep 6th (KM) Swanage Folk Festival
Sep 7th (KM) Swanage Folk Festival
Sep 8th (KM) Swanage Folk Festival
As someone who has lived with language, and so often winced at my own, let me congratulate you on your latest Rambling. The paragraphs about your youth were beautifully written. I can imagine your thousand-plus readers smiling, sighing and drifting back to their own pasts because of your prose.
Your comments about the French were withering and hilarious. It’s good for us Yanks to be reminded that the Hundred Years War was far from over in 1453.
As they said back in your twenties, everyone’s Sixties, write on.
Charlie Reilly – Philadelphia (or somewhere near).
We first met last year (very briefly) after one of your performances at the Liverpool Maritime Festival. I was so impressed and in awe at the performance of 'Kimbers Men', I have looked forward to hearing you again and having recently booked my ticket for the 'Rose Theatre', Edge Hill College, 11th February, hopefully my wish will be satisfied!!
Thank you for the continued 'Ramblings of an Old Codger', your views on life are so true and your humour fantastic.
Good luck on the 11th of Feb - I look forward to it!
Big Eric (Hall).
What is it with you and the French Joe ? Pretty childish if I might say so,
to simply jump on the transmanche love-hate bandwagon that’s been rolling
along since time immemorial. And which has of course led to your French letters
and our capotes anglaises ; ‘filer à l’anglaise’ means
sneaking out of a pub (for example) when it’s your turn to buy a round
; ‘les anglais ont débarqué’ (the English have landed)
is a term used when a woman has her period etc. etc. And no, I’m not the
great defender of Gallic nationalism, having taken up French nationality simply
to be able to vote (against the likes of the Le Pen clan) and to ease the administrative
paperwork. I don’t think that ‘Imagine’ was one of St. Lennon’s
better oeuvres but I do agree with the idealistic sentiments behind the abolition
of frontiers and religion. I also think that Sarkozy is an arch and potentially
dangerous wanker but then the same could be said of most leading politicians
throughout the so-called civilized world and at least our government was against
the disastrous military intervention in Irak which led to the slaughter of hundreds
of thousands of innocent civilians.
The AAA rating is of course a total nonsense as is any notion of real ‘crisis’, either side of the English channel and elsewhere. Crisis is selective and until I see government ministers pedalling off to ‘work’ on their push-bikes instead of stepping out of luxurious, gas-guzzling limousines then I won’t believe in a phenomenon which has been trumped up and propagated simply to keep the ‘little man’ at the beck and call of the cash barons. Rather successfully unfortunately. Are we honestly better or worse off than we were 30 years ago? No, we just dig our own grave of galloping consumerism, swallowing the bait of the salesmen’s propaganda, hook, line and sinker because apparently we’re unable to think for ourselves any longer. The French are admittedly treading this path too but to a lesser, or at least slower, extent than the Brits, chronically and pitifully annexed as you are to Uncle Sam’s vision of capitalistic world domination.
The British constantly mock the French police who protect the strikers and protesting lorry drivers who bring the country periodically to a standstill. The difference between the British and French attitudes over such issues is that over here, those with a worthwhile grievance (and not being paid when you’re waiting, sometimes for several hours, for your truck to be offloaded is, in my view, an injustice), traditionally get around 70% of popular support. It's our country too you know and the police are therefore simply supporting public opinion instead of taking sadistic revenge when putting down any potential, minor rebellion with their horses and water cannon.
It’s funny too how the many Brits who slag off the French when they set up their holiday homes in the Dordogne suddenly get used to a public health system which, unlike the UK, actually works, along with social security support which makes a real attempt to take care of those in genuine need. You’re presumably proud of having 4% of the population owning over 80% of the wealth of your country, leading to a corrupt and manipulative controlling class which now, I hear, obliges the unemployed to work for free, further lining the pockets of those at the top of the pyramid. Yes, as a professional musician, I’m pleased to be able to pay (around 50% of each gig) into a welfare system which guarantees me a year-round living wage and further delighted that the sans papiers (illegal immigrants) who manage to escape getting forcibly returned to their homeland are given humane assistance from the communal pot. And I’m simply overjoyed to live in a country which doesn’t pay arse-licking lip service to a cunning and calculating bunch of bling-bling ‘royals’ who have as much to do with human reality as Thomas the Tank Engine. A dose of 1789 would do you a lot of good, believe me. Stopping short, of course, of the execution of those who despoil the economy (before you retort with some cheap remark about my vehement opposition to capital punishment). No, the French way of doing things is by no means perfect and with the likes of Sarko in charge it’s a constant, uphill, battle to defend the rights pertaining to a semblance of social equilibrium but we still manage, with our foul-smelling, garlic-laden breath, to voice our disapproval of outright discrimination against the working class and keep Big Brother in his place instead of lying down and accepting all the merde that's thrown at us. If the French are Europe’s greatest adepts of the suppository (because they work), you Brits are the past masters of sticking your heads up your own arses. Vive la République.
Tim Broadbent - France
PS - Sorting through a few archives recently I just stumbled across the poem which accompanied my UK passport when I sent it back to Blair at 10 Downing Street. Strange, but he never replied.
ENGLAND, YOUR ENGLAND
Farewell sceptic isle; warm beer and cold comfort
Have finally taken their toll on your son,
There’s no option left but to drive on the right,
Drink cheap local vino and lie in the sun.
Farewell Jerusalem’s satanic dominion
Of faded green hills, now a different hue,
Puppet politics pander to Uncle Sam’s doctrines,
McDonald’s and Cola, forever true blue.
Farewell grizzled spectre, your clowning crowned princes
Belong to a splendidly surrogate race,
Class-ridden corruption cashes in on the pauper,
Perfidious Albion’s all over the place.
Farewell to a passport blue-rinsed* like your leaders
Requesting safe passage from her majesty,
I shan’t need a magistrate, lawyer or teacher
Signing my photo to say that it’s me.
Farewell Hippocratic division of the spoils,
A national wealth service that leaves you to die,
They can cure every sickness save avarice and sloth
If you sign up to BUPA and wear the right tie.
Farewell weary battle-torn kingdom of traitors,
Salting your wounds with spin doctors’ balm,
Centre-page legs spread, the gutter press gloating,
Dead princesses ruling the media’s realm.
Farewell peasant land of my father’s past glories,
Sit tight on your laurels, you’re hardy, survive,
As the miners vote Tory in pits of depression
All you’ve got left is the way that you drive.
Farewell to your flag days and poppycock pageant,
Your trooping the colour as long as it’s white,
The unspeakable hunt for a brush with nobility,
Obliging Bold Reynard to put up a fight.**
Farewell land of shopkeepers, gilt-edged slave traders,
Bigoted bigwigs made of the right stuff.
‘Neath the dire Straits of Dover they’ve tunnelled to freedom,
There’s a light at the end and it beckons.
* Well they used to be!
** Written before the ban on fox-hunting
Brilliant as always. Loved the Quick Witt bit - so quick vitted of you!
Enjoy Ireland - I'm jealous .... and the lottery didn't come up with the goods so I can't go!
I've just found out that one of the 'lusts' of your life (Katrina) will be on the judging panel of the TV show Dancing on Ice, when the new series starts (this month I think), so you'll be able to relive your misspent past!!
I refuse to act my age.
Where's my nude Santa?!
Always enjoy your Ramblings. Look forward to seeing you at Sixmilebridge in a couple of weeks. It was there I saw Kimber’s Men for the first time a couple of years ago. Can't wait to meet you again,
Keep sending me your ramblings, as I do enjoy a good read!
All the best for the New Year!
Len Wilson FKA Banjo Bill
for abbreviation freaks (Formerly Know As)
Reluctantly I am changing to a new email account
After some 20 years with hotmail, I believe that within the last 6 days, my email account which I have been using with you,(email@example.com), has been hacked.
The hacker is very convincing. Messages are just like Microsoft. I was completely unable to gain access to my email a/c because I was diverted to the hacker. Don't know how they do it. It notified me that my email a/c had been hacked, and had therefore been blocked by Microsoft until I follow a procedure, with Microsoft, to re-establish it. It took me several days to gain access to that procedure, during which time I had no email facility on that, my main email a/c.
The online procedure involved providing "Microsoft" with sufficient information to enable them to verify that I am the genuine party, i.e. it is MY account. I duly began. Up to that point I was fooled. When I saw the "dangerous" topics - credit card details, and personal info, I smelt a rat. Ultimately I did not provide all the information.
When I clicked SuBMIT I was accepted and regained immediate access to my email a/c. Obviously it is automated and they accept whatever they can get. Some people, no doubt, will provide the lot. Have now got full access to basaccs. Have changed my password and will not send any more emails on it. One big drawback with Hotmail is that one cannot backup emails received or sent, so I have decided to keep the a/c open, because I have a stack of correspondence there I will need.
In the hope that some of you will not have consigned this unrecognised email to file 13, I look forward to hearing from you in due course.
Yours, singing the praises of technology,
As a bagpiper, I play many gigs. Recently I was asked by a funeral director to play at a graveside service for a homeless man. He had no family or friends, so the service was to be at a pauper's cemetery in the Ontario back country.
As I was not familiar with the backwoods, I got lost and, being a typical man, I didn't stop for directions.
I finally arrived an hour late and saw the funeral guy had evidently gone and the hearse was nowhere in sight. There were only the diggers and crew left and they were eating lunch.
I felt badly and apologized to the men for being late. I went to the side of the grave and looked down and the vault lid was already in place. I didn't know what else to do, so I started to play.
The workers put down their lunches and began to gather around. I played out my heart and soul for this man with no family and friends. I played like I've never played before for this homeless man.
And as I played 'Amazing Grace,' the workers began to weep. They wept, I wept, we all wept together. When I finished I packed up my bagpipes and started for my car. Though my head hung low, my heart was full.
As I opened the door to my car, I heard one of the workers say, "I never seen nothin' like that before and I've been putting in septic tanks for twenty years."
Apparently I'm still lost.... it's a man thing
The Bathtub Test
During a visit to the mental asylum, a visitor asked the Director how do you determine whether or not a patient should be institutionalized.
'Well,' said the Director, 'we fill up a bathtub, then we offer a teaspoon, a teacup and a bucket to the patient and ask him or her to empty the bathtub.'
'Oh, I understand,' said the visitor. 'A normal person would use the bucket because it's bigger than the spoon or the teacup.'
'No' said the Director, 'A normal person would pull the plug. Do you want a bed near the window?'
Ponder on these imponderables for a minute:-
1. If you take an Oriental person and spin him around several times, does he
2. If people from Poland are called Poles, why aren't people from Holland called Holes?
3. Do infants enjoy infancy as much as adults enjoy adultery?
4. If a pig loses its voice, is it disgruntled?
5. If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?
6. Why is the man who invests all your money called a broker?
7. When cheese gets its picture taken, what does it say?
8. Why is a person who plays the piano called a pianist but a person who drives a racing car not called a racist?
9. Why are a wise man and a wise guy opposites?
10. Why do overlook and oversee mean opposite things?
11. Why isn't the number 11 pronounced onety one?
12. 'I am' is reportedly the shortest sentence in the English language. Could it be that 'I do' is the longest sentence?
13. If lawyers are disbarred and clergymen defrocked, doesn't it follow that electricians can be delighted, musicians denoted, cowboys deranged, models deposed, tree surgeons debarked, and dry cleaners depressed?
14. What hair colour do they put on the driver's license's of bald men?
15. I thought about how mothers feed their babies with tiny little spoons and forks so I wondered what do Chinese mothers use? Toothpicks?
16. Why do they put pictures of criminals up in the Post Office? What are we supposed to do, write to them? Why don't they just put their pictures on the postage stamps so the postmen can look for them while they deliver the mail?
17. You never really learn to swear until you learn to drive.
18. No one ever says, 'It's only a game' when their team is winning.
19. Ever wonder about those people who spend £1.50 apiece on those
little bottles of Evian water? Try spelling Evian backwards: NAIVE
20. Isn't making a smoking section in a restaurant like making a peeing section in a swimming pool?
21. If 4 out of 5 people SUFFER from diarrhea, does that mean that one enjoys it?
These are from a book called "Disorder in the American Courts", and are things people actually said in court, word for word, taken down and now published by court reporters that had the torment of staying calm while these exchanges were actually taking place.
ATTORNEY: What was the first thing your husband said to you that morning?
WITNESS: He said, 'Where am I, Cathy?'
ATTORNEY: And why did that upset you?
WITNESS: My name is Susan!
ATTORNEY: What gear were you in at the moment of the impact?
WITNESS: Gucci sweats and Reeboks.
ATTORNEY: Are you sexually active?
WITNESS: No, I just lie there.
ATTORNEY: This myasthenia gravis, does it affect your memory at all?
ATTORNEY: And in what ways does it affect your memory?
WITNESS: I forget.
ATTORNEY: You forget? Can you give us an example of something you forgot?
ATTORNEY: Do you know if your daughter has ever been involved in voodoo?
WITNESS: We both do.
WITNESS: We do.
ATTORNEY: You do?
WITNESS: Yes, voodoo.
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he
doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the 20-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He's 20, much like your IQ.
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you shitting me?
ATTORNEY: So the date of conception (of the baby) was August 8th?
ATTORNEY: And what were you doing at that time?
WITNESS: Getting laid!
ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honour, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new attorney?
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the Circus was in town I'm going with male.
ATTORNEY: Is your appearance here this morning pursuant to a deposition notice
which I sent to your attorney?
WITNESS: No, this is how I dress when I go to work.
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Â Oral.
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 PM.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: Â If not, he was by the time I finished.
ATTORNEY: Are you qualified to give a urine sample?
WITNESS: Are you qualified to ask that question?
ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a pulse?
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began the autopsy?
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.
Paddy McCoy, an elderly French farmer, received a letter from the Department
for Work & Pensions stating that they suspected he was not paying his employees
the statutory minimum wage and they would send an inspector to interview them.
On the appointed day, the inspector turned up.
"Tell me about your staff," he asked Paddy.
"Well," said Paddy, "there's the farm hand, I pay him £240 a week, and he has a free cottage.
Then there's the housekeeper. She gets £190 a week, along with free board and lodging.
There's also the half-wit. He works a 16 hour day, does 90% of the work, earns about £25 a week along with a bottle of whisky and, as a special treat, occasionally gets to sleep with my wife."
"That's disgraceful" said the inspector, "I need to interview the half-wit."
"That'll be me then," said Paddy.
Duz tha speak Yorkshire?
A Yorkshire man takes his cat to the vet.
Yorkshireman: "Ayup, lad, I need to talk to thee about me cat."
Vet: "Is it a tom?"
Yorkshireman: "Nay, I've browt it with us."
A Yorkshire man's dog dies and as it was a favourite pet he decides to have
a gold statue made by a jeweller to remember the dog by.
Yorkshireman: "Can tha mek us a gold statue of yon dog?"
Jeweller: "Do you want it 18 carat?"
A Yorkshire man's wife dies and the widower decides that her headstone should
have the words "She were thine" engraved on it.
He calls the stone mason, who assures him that the headstone will be ready a few days after the funeral.
True to his word the stone mason calls the widower to say that the headstone is ready and would he like to come and have a look.
When the widower gets there he takes one look at the stone to see that it's been engraved "She were thin".
He explodes: "'ells bells man, you've left the bloody "e" out, you've left the bloody "e" out!"
The stone mason apologizes profusely and assures the poor widower that it will be rectified the following morning.
Next day comes and the widower returns to the stone mason.......
"There you go sir, I've put the "e" on the stone for you".
The widower looks at the stone and then reads out aloud:
"E, she were thin".
Bloke from Barnsley with piles asks chemist "Nah then lad, does tha sell
Chemist replies "Aye, Magnum or Cornetto?"
Keep smiling, keep singing.