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A Chuckle A Day Keeps The Doctor Away

A Spellchecker For Our Time

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a quay and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
It's rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
It's letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

Martha Snow

* * *​
A lady in her late forties felt that she could do with some major plastic surgery, hoping that it would make a new woman out of her. On the operation table she had an out-of-the-body experience in which she met God who told her that she was going to live for another fifty years.

As soon as she had sufficiently recovered from her operation, she hurled herself into a huge rejuvenation programme, lost two stone, had a facelift, a nose job and breast implants, some liposuction and she also dyed her hair. A year later, the woman was hit by a car and killed. Upon reaching Heaven, she rushed up to God and shouted furiously: ‘You told me I was going to live for another fifty years on the Earth plane!’ ‘I’m very sorry about that,’ said God, ‘I didn’t recognise you.’

Created by Anon.
Edited by Aquarius​

* * *​
Talking Dog For Sale

A man saw a sign in front of a house ‘Talking Dog for Sale.’ He rang the bell and when the owner told him that the dog was in the backyard, he asked: ‘Can I see it?’

‘Yes, of course you can!’ The owner replied and took the man to see the dog.

‘Is it true that you can talk?’ the man asked the creature.

‘Yep,’ it replied.

‘That’s incredible! What’s your story?’

Looking up, the dog said: ‘Well, I discovered this gift when I was young and wanted to help the government. I told the CIA what I could do and in no time they had me moving from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, as no-one thought a dog would be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies eight years running. The jetting around tired me out and I knew I wasn’t getting any younger, so I wanted to settle down. I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security work, mostly wandering near suspicious characters and listening in. I uncovered some astonishing things there and was awarded a lot of medals. I’m retired now.’

Amazed, the man turned to the owner and asked how much he wanted for the dog.

‘Ten dollars,’ came the reply.

Stunned by the low price, the man said: ‘But the dog is brilliant. Why are you selling him so cheap?’

‘Because he’s such a liar. He never did any of that!’

* * *​
A Story For Christmas

If there had been three wise women instead of men, the following would have happened:

• They would have asked directions.

• Arrived on time.

• Helped deliver the baby.

• Cleaned the stable.

• Made a casserole.

• Brought practical gifts.

• And there would have been peace on Earth.

The Season's Greetings to everybody.

With love - Aquarius

* * *
Facts About Rudolph, The Red-Nosed Reindeer

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually in late November to mid-December.

Female reindeer, however, retain their antlers till after they give birth in spring. Therefore, according to the historical presentations of Santa’s reindeer, every single one of them, from Rudolph to Donner and Blitzen, could only be a female. They alone would be willing and able to drag a fat old man in a red velvet suit round our whole world in one night without getting lost.Santa Claus’s reindeer form the team of flying reindeer that pull the sleigh of Santa Claus and help him deliver Christmas gifts.

The names of the reindeer are Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen. The last two names are the German words for Thunder and Lightning. The names are based on those used in the 1823 poem ‘A Visit from St. Nicholas’, commonly called ‘The Night Before Christmas’, the origin of the reindeer’s popularity as Christmas symbols.

Merry Christmas to everybody.

With love and a chuckle - Aquarius

* * *​
Recipe For A Christmas Cake

1. 2 cups flour
2. 1 stick butter
3. 1 cup water
4. 1 tsp baking soda
5. 1 cup sugar
6. 1 tsp salt
7. 1 cup brown sugar
8. Lemon juice
9. 4 large eggs
10. Nuts
11. 2 bottles wine
12. 2 cups dried fruit

Sample the wine to check its quality. Take a large bowl, test the wine again. To be sure it is of the highest quality, first pour one level cup of it and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it’s best to make sure the wine is still okay. Better try another cup.

Just in case, turn off the mixerer thingy. Break two eggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the dried fruit. Pick the fruit off the floor. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers, pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the wine to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt or something. Check the wine. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table, then a spoon of sugar or some fink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don’t forget to beat off the turner.

Finally, throw the bowl through the window. Finish the wine and wipe counter with the cat. Then walk to the nearest supermarket and buy a cake.

Bingle Jells and Merry Christmas to all.

* * *​
Thoughts For The Festive Season

To get you into the right mood,
please follow the link below:

‘Christmas Dinner For The Elderly’

* * *

Then read this:

Getting On A Bit

Review your life said Socrates – no doubt he had a point.
One dwells on this when old and grey with creaks in every joint.
The great man didn’t quite mean that – he dwelt on higher planes,
And grappled with philosophy far more than aches and pains.

But he’s been gone two thousand years so will not mind a bit,
If I tamper with his discourses and try to make them fit.
Adapt them to the physical, those matters of the flesh,
That press upon us ever more when we’re not young and fresh.

The old boy downed a hemlock drink – some say he didn’t care.
Most likely he was wondering what more he’d have to bear.
He’d just about got to the end of three-score years and ten.
So probably he deemed it wise to end things there and then.

So passed from the Hellenic world a thinker of renown,
A fellow upon whom today the scholars seldom frown.
But enough of ancient Athens, let us now get up to date.
I have a little tale to tell – bet you can hardly wait.

My first six decades went quite well, the seventh wasn’t bad,
But number eight has been so hard, it’s made me rather sad.
It started promptly on the day, the big seven-o came round.
While walking through a local park, I tumbled to the ground.

At first it didn’t seem severe, I strode along all right.
My trouble started later, in the middle of the night.
Rib-cage, back and abdomen hurt like they were on fire.
Hips and shoulders joined in too, the situation dire.

It took three weeks to simmer down, four more to disappear.
A very inauspicious start to such a landmark year.
Two further months without a hitch and life seemed fairly kind,
Until I was oppressed again, this time it was the mind.

My landlady assailed me with some nasty allegations,
Backed up by a battery of vicious imprecations.
She’d always been so reticent, I never thought she’d try
To scold me, then I realised that her mind had gone awry.

Her son turned up that evening, confirming what I thought.
He apologised profusely, poor fellow was distraught.
I calmed him down but told him that our ways would have to part.
Though hardly a spring chicken, I was game for one more start.

Why stop at domicile I thought, I’ll try something more grand.
So as well as changing residence, I also swapped the land.
Left the Emerald Isle behind and made for Albion’s shores,
Excitement making me forget that when it rains it pours.

I got a house and settled down, but not for very long.
A few months in my new abode then something else went wrong.
The waterworks failed suddenly, a bolt out of the blue.
What hitherto was crystal clear took on a different hue.

My visits to the smallest room caused maximum dismay.
I’d started passing pure vin rouge instead of Chardonnay.
I scuttled off to see the doc, whose face betrayed some worry.
He wanted me in hospital, and said we’d better hurry.

The surgeon spoke harsh words to me of baccy, booze and diet.
I had an argument in mind, then thought I’d best keep quiet.
He seemed a formidable lad, not wise to make him cross.
I was prostrate, he had a knife, so that made him the boss.

He did his work then called on me and seemed in better humour.
I’d soon be on my feet, he said, he’d shaved away a tumour.
So back to domesticity – all quiet for a spell,
Until another happening, that rendered me unwell.

While out on foot one winter night, I sought a litter bin,
But came upon a flower tub, located with my shin.
A strip of me three inches long and nearly half as wide
Had vanished, and though in some pain I sought it far and wide.

I had no luck, so limped off home and got another shock.
The missing rasher wasn’t lost but rolled up in my sock.
I tried to fix it back in place, with plaster and saliva,
Plus some herbal ointment that had set me back a fiver.

I got it right and turned my mind to sprucing up the dwelling
And overdid the labouring, but quite how there’s no telling.
This time a whopping lump emerged above the right-side groin.
It felt much like a cricket ball embedded in the loin.

So off to the GP again – by then it was a habit.
‘Spread out upon the couch,’ he said, ‘we’ll just let dog see rabbit.’
He diagnosed a hernia, no cause for great alarm.
The surgery was simple and I needn’t have a qualm.

The sawbones was a gloomy chap but knew well what to do.
Got through four jobs like mine that day, with me last in the queue.
I’m back and in the saddle now, at work with pen and ink,
With senses honed by recent woes, or so I like to think

Carved up twice in fourteen months, I’m wondering what’s next.
Another in the lower regions, that would get me vexed.
But providence is on my side, I feel it in my bones.
It won’t be liver, pancreas, or even kidney stones.

I’m going for lobotomy, if fate will let me choose.
The old grey matter’s addled, so I haven’t much to lose.
When this thought occurred I guessed my brain would just go reeling,
Then I got the point that where’s there’s no sense there’s no feeling.

From ‘Madazine’

The Season’s Greetings from

Courtjester & Aquarius

* * *

Last edited:
The Tale Of The Church Squirrels

Once upon a time, there was a small town with five different religious establishments.

They were:
The Presbyterian Church
The Baptist Church
The Lutheran Church
The Catholic Church
The Jewish Synagogue.​

Each of them was over-run by squirrels. One fine day, the Presbyterians called a meeting to decide what could be done about them. After many prayers and deep reflections they came to the decision that the squirrels were destined to be there and as such, they had no right to interfere with God’s sacred will.

In the Baptist Church the squirrels had taken over the baptistery. The deacons thought it would be best to put a cover on this part of the church and then drown the squirrels in it. However, the squirrels escaped and it did not take long until there were twice as many of them in this church.

The Lutheran Church believed they had no right to harm any of God’s creatures. So they humanely trapped the squirrels, took them a few miles outside of town and set them free. Three days later, all of them had returned.

The Catholic Church came up with what, to them, appeared to be the best and most effective solution. They baptised each squirrel and registered all of them as members of their church. As a result, the squirrels can now only be seen at Christmas, Ash Wednesday, Palm Sunday and Easter.

Not bad, not bad at all, thought those in charge of the Jewish Synagogue. The head rabbi rubbed his hands and said: ‘We can do better!’ Quietly, they caught one of the male squirrels and after a short service of dedication circumcised him. No more squirrels were ever seen anywhere near the Synagogue.

* * *​
The Wedding Anniversary Gift
A married couple in their sixties was celebrating its wedding anniversary in a quiet romantic little restaurant. Suddenly a beautiful tiny fairy appeared before them on their table and said: ‘For being such an exemplary married couple and for being so kind and loving to each other for such a long time, I am granting each one of you a wish. What shall it be?’

Without hesitation the wife answered: ‘I would like to travel and see more of our world with my darling husband’. The fairy waved her magic wand and - poof! - two tickets for the Queen Mary II lay before them.

The husband, however, had to think about the matter for a moment: ‘Well, this is all very romantic, but an opportunity like it will never come my way again. I’m sorry my love, but I would like to have a wife who is thirty years younger than I am.’

Both fairy and wife were deeply disappointed. ‘But,’ the fairy said, ‘A wish is a wish and it shall be fulfilled.’ So she waved her magic wand once more and poof! In an instant, before the wife’s eyes her husband grew into a ninety-two year old.

The moral of this story: Men who are ungrateful do well never to forget that fairies are female.

* * *​
How’s the day going for you?

One day, feeling utterly deject and miserable, I was sitting at a bar, just staring at my drink. Suddenly, a big biker, who looked like a trouble maker, stepped up to me, grabbed my drink and gulped it down in one swig.

When I burst into tears, he growled menacingly: ‘Well, what are ye going do about it?’ After a moment or two he continued: ‘Come on, I didn’t think you’d weep over a triviality like this. I can’t stand watching men crying.’

‘This is the worst day of my life,’ I replied. ‘I’m a complete failure. First I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, my car had been stolen and I don’t have any insurance to replace it. I left my wallet in the cab I took home and found my wife in bed with another man. As the crowning glory of my day, the dog bit me. And so I came to this bar to help me work up the courage to put an end to it all. I bought myself a drink and dropped a capsule into it. As I was watching the poison dissolve, you showed up and drank it.

But, enough about me. How’s the day going for you?’

* * *​
How To Become An Alaskan Sourdough

One day a Texan walked into the Malamute Saloon in Ester, Alaska, and asked the barkeeper whether he could tell him how to become an Alaskan ‘sourdough’. The man behind the bar told him that it’s as simple as this: ‘First you have to drink a quart of this rot-gut whisky.’ With these words he placed a bottle of ‘Lee McGee’s Corn Squeezings’ on the bar. ‘After that you have to make love to a native woman and then shoot a grizzly bear,’ he added with a wink to some locals who were sitting at a nearby table playing cards and drinking beer.

‘Sounds straight forward,’ the Texan said. ‘I’ll do it ‘cos I’m tired of everyone calling me a cheechako. Gimme a glass.’ Handing over a $100 bill, he opened the rot-gut and poured the water glass before him to the top. He drunk it, shuddered and poured himself another glass full. Within less than an hour the bottle was empty and the staggering Texan left the bar.

A few hours later, just when the card game was breaking up, the Texan returns to the bar, severely scratched and bleeding from head to toe. Leaning on the bar, he says: ‘Now then, where’s that Eskimo woman I gotta shoot?’

Created by Anon.
Edited by Aquarius

* * *​

Spelling Reform Of The English Language

The European Commission has just announced an agreement whereby English will be the official language of the European Union rather than German, the other language under discussion. As part of the negotiations, the British Government conceded that English spelling had a great deal of room for improvement and has accepted a 5- year phase-in plan that would become known as ‘Euro-English’.

In the first year, ‘s’ will replace the soft ‘c’.. Sertainly, this will make the sivil servants jump with joy. The hard ‘c’ will be dropped in favour of ‘k’. This should klear up konfusion, and keyboards kan have one less letter.

There will be growing publik enthusiasm in the sekond year when the troublesome ‘ph’ will be replaced with ‘f’. This will make words like fotograf 20% shorter.

In the 3rd year, publik akseptanse of the new spelling kan be expekted to reach the stage where more komplikated changes are possible.

Governments will enkourage the removal of double letters which have always ben a deterent to akurate speling.

Also, al wil agre that the horibl mes of the silent ‘e’ in the languag is disgrasful and it should go away.

By the 4th yer people wil be reseptiv to steps such as replasing ‘th’ with ‘z’ and ‘w’ with ‘v’.

During ze fifz yer, ze unesesary ‘o’ kan be dropd from vords kontaining ‘ou’ and after ziz fifz yer, ve vil hav a reil sensi bl riten styl.

Zer vil be no mor trubl or difikultis and evrivun vil find it ezi TU understand ech oza. Ze drem of a united urop vil finali kum tru.

Und efter ze fifz yer, ve vil al be speking German like zey vunted in ze forst plas.

If zis mad you smil, pleas pas on to oza pepl.

* * *​
Church Light Bulbs

How many church people does it take to change a light bulb?

• Charismatic: Only one – hands are already in the air anyway.

• Roman Catholic: None – they use candles.

• Baptist: Change??!!??!!

• Pentecostal: Ten – one to change and nine to pray against the spirit of darkness.

• Presbyterian: None – God has predestined when the lights will be on and off.

• Anglican: Ten – one to call the electrician, and nine to say how much they like they old one better.

• Mormons: Five. One man to change the bulb and four wives to tell him how to do it.

• Methodists: At least 15. One to change the light bulb, and two or three committees to approve the change.

• Unitarians: We choose not to make a statement either in favour of or against the need for light bulbs. However, if in your own journey, you have found a light bulb that works for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your personal relationship with your light bulb, and present it next month at our annual Light Bulb Sunday Service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way, long-life and tinted, all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence.

* * *​
The Fisherman And The Frog

A seventy year old man loved to go fishing. One day he was sitting in his boat when he heard a voice saying: ‘Pick me up.’ Looking around, he could not see anyone. Maybe I was dreaming, he thought to himself. But a moment later the voice repeated: ‘Pick me up.’

Once more the man looked into the water. Lo and behold! On one of the lily pads nearby a handsome green frog was sitting. Astonished, the man asked: ‘Were you talking to me?’ The frog replied: ‘Yes, if you pick me up and kiss me, I will turn into the most beautiful woman you have ever seen. Your family and friends will be jealous when you announce that I am your bride. That’s what I am willing to be, if you kiss me.’

For a moment or two the man thought about the proposition whilst looking at the frog, but then he picked it up carefully and put it into one of his pockets. From inside it, the frog said: ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? If you kiss me, I shall be your beautiful bride.’

Opening his pocket, the man looked at the frog and replied: ‘You’ve got to be joking! At my age I’d rather have a talking frog. That will really get them going. With age comes wisdom, you see.’

* * *​
The Mechanic and The Cardiologist

A mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a car when he spotted a well known cardiologist in his shop. The cardiologist was waiting for the service manager to take a look at his car, when the mechanic shouted across the garage: ‘Hey Doc, want to take a look at this?’

Taken by surprise, the cardiologist walked to where the mechanic was working. The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and asked: ‘Look at this engine. I opened its heart, took the valves out, repaired or replaced anything damaged, and then put everything back in. When I have finished with it, it will be working again just like new and I can’t help asking myself why is it that I make $48,000 a year and you make $1.7M for basically the same work?’

The cardiologist thought about it for a moment and then whispered into the mechanic’s ear: ‘Try doing it with the engine running.’

* * *​
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* * *​
A Spot Of Wisdom
There once was a couple who had been married for many years. Whenever they had a confrontation, the man’s yelling could be heard deep into the night. It always ended with things like: ‘When I die, I’ll dig my way out of my grave and come back to haunt you for the rest of your life!’

The neighbours were afraid of the man and he enjoyed that they were. When he died at the ripe old age of ninety-eight, they were concerned for the woman’s safety. One of them asked her: ‘Aren’t you afraid you're your husband might really be able to dig his way out of the grave and come to pursue you?’

The wife replied: ‘Oh no, let him dig. As a precaution I had him buried upside down and he has never been one for asking directions.’

* * *​
The Barbecue
While it’s still summer in the Southern hemisphere and people are doing their best to enjoy their barbies, I thought a refresher course on the etiquette of this sublime outdoor cooking activity would not come amiss. It’s the only type of food preparation a ‘real’ man will do, probably because it involves an element of danger. When he volunteers to do the barbecue, the following chain of events is put into motion:

1. The woman buys the food.
2. She makes the salad and the dessert and prepares the vegetables.
3. She prepares the meat for cooking, places it on a tray along with the necessary cooking utensils and sauces, and takes it to the man who is lounging beside the grill with a beer in his hand.

The first really important part:

4. The man places the meat on the grill.

More routine:
5. The woman goes inside to organise plates and cutlery.6. She returns to tell the man that the meat is burning. He thanks her and asks her to bring another beer while he deals with the situation.

Important again:

7. The man takes the meat off the grill and hands it to the woman.

More routine:
8. Having prepared the eating utensils, the woman attends to salads, bread, sauces and napkins and brings them to the table.9. After eating, she clears the table and washes the dishes.

And now comes most vital and glorious moment of all:

10. Everyone praises the man and thanks him for his wonderful cooking.
11. The man asks the woman how she enjoyed her ‘night off’. Noticing her annoyed reaction, he concludes that there’s just no pleasing some women.

* * *​

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