Tag Archives: humour

Sofa

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Lying here on this sofa. I should go to bed really but I’m so tired after a hard days work I can hardly move. Besides my bed’s getting old now and the sofa is so comfortable.

Maybe I should get into bed, after all its only just across the room from where I’m snoozing on the sofa but this cushion under my head is so comfortable, perhaps I could take it to bed with me. Even with the cushion in the bed, the fact is the sofas still much softer.

Another hard day in the office tomorrow, roll on the weekend say I. The weekend’s my favourite time as I can have a lie-in.

Oh I hate those crowded tube trains, everyones in such a rush bumping into one another. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been trodden on, people seem not to see me. It isn’t deliberate but it hurts none the less.

I’m lucky, my colleagues are really nice, even though people are busy someone or other always has time to stop and chat. I’d hate to work in a place where you couldn’t socialise with people. As a wise person once said “all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy”.

There is a big tradition of colleagues bringing in cakes and biscuits. I’m a little mean in that respect, I will help myself to food but I never bring anything in nor do I stand my round in the pub however, people still appear to like me.

Oh this sofa is heaven, it beats me why I need a bed at all, perhaps I’ll sleep on it every night.

What was that sound? Is he coming in here? False alarm I can stay right here, he isn’t coming in.

I can here him snoring. Do I snore like that I wonder? I have the most vivid dreams, mostly about chasing things or, occasionally being chased. I guess we all must dream. I know he does because I sometimes here him talking in his sleep.

I’m so tired, living and working in London really takes it out of you. Personally I’d prefer to live in the country as I love all that green grass but beggers can’t be choosers and I’m stuck in the capital so long as his majesty decides to stay here. If I sleep now will I hear him getting up? My hearing is very acute, I’ll be sure to be up and about as soon as he opens his bedroom door.

“Get down you naughty dog, you know you aren’t allowed to sleep on the sofa!”

Oh know I must have been very tired, I didn’t here him come in. Back to my basket for me. Tail between my legs, pretend to be sorry and hope he’ll take pity on me.

 

(The above is dedicated to my guide dog, Trigger who has been known to spend the odd night on my sofa)!

Chris Mccausland The UK’s Only Professional Blind Commedian

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The August/September issue of RNIB’s Vision Magazine contains an interview with the UK’s only professional blind comedian, Chris Mccausland (http://dl.groovygecko.net/anon.groovy/clients/rnib/podcast/vision-aug-sept-14.mp3). Chris is perhaps best known for advertising Barclays talking ATM machine which is designed to help visually impaired people withdraw cash independently.

As a blind person I can relate to Chris when he says that he doesn’t wish his comedy to centre on his blindness because visual impairment is only a part of his character.

I would be a rich man if I had a penny for every time I had to smile, through gritted teeth at a joke entailing blindness. Don’t get me wrong, many jokes about blindness are funny but when, as a blind person you have heard the one about the blind man who was swinging a guide dog round his head in the supermarket for the hundredth time you just switch off because it is, quite frankly no longer funny!

(Much against my better judgement I will end with the joke refered to above:

A blind man goes into a supermarket and starts to swing his guide dog around by it’s lead.

“What are you doing?” demands the manager.

The blind man replies “I’m just looking around”. Groan, groan!).

Thought For The Day For Satanists (Humour, Not To Be Taken Seriously)!

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I must confess to finding XFM’s Thought For The Day For Satanists rather humorous. It is, I hasten to add a very much tongue in cheek production, not meant to be taken seriously and can, I believe be enjoyed by people of all faiths and none, https://soundcloud.com/the-xfm-breakfast-show/thought-for-the-day-for-3

Matilda By Hilaire Beloc

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I first came across Beloc’s poem while browsing through a book of poetry in the school library. I think that I first read “Matilda” in the Oxford Book Of English Verse, although it may have been another anthology. The endings of Beloc’s characters are often grizly as in the below poem and in Henry King who, it will be remembered expired as a consequence of eating string. Grizly though they undoubtedly are, we smile none the less at Beloc’s verses.

 

—

 

Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,

It made one Gasp and Stretch one’s Eyes;

Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,

Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,

Attempted to believe Matilda:

The effort very nearly killed her,

And would have done so, had not she

Discovered this Infirmity.

For once, towards the Close of Day,

Matilda, growing tired of play,

And finding she was left to alone,

Went tiptoe to the telephone

And summoned the Immediate Aid

Of London’s Nobel Fire-Brigade.

Within an hour the Gallant Band

Were pouring in on every hand,

From Putney, Hackney Downs and Bow,

With Courage high and Hearts a-glow

They galloped, roaring though the Town,

“Matilda’s House is Burning Down”

Inspired by British Cheers and Loud

Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,

They ran their ladders through a score

Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;

And took Peculiar Pains to Souse

The Pictures up and down the House,

Until Matilda’s Aunt succeeded

In showing them they were not needed

And even then she had to pay

To get the Men to go away! . . . . .

It happened that a few Weeks later

Here aunt was off to the Theatre

To see that Interesting Play

The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.

She had refused to take her Niece

To hear this Entertaining Piece:

A Deprivation Just and Wise

To Punish her for Telling Lies.

That Night a Fire did break out-

You should have heard Matilda Shout!

You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,

And throw the window up and call

To People passing in the Street-

(The rapidly increasing Heat

Encouraging her to obtain

Their confidence)-but it was all in vain!

For every time She shouted “Fire!”

They only answered “Little Liar!”

And therefore when her Aunt returned,

Matilda, and the House, were burned.

 

He Who Sups

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“Have you seen my long spoon?”

“No, why do you need that bent old thing anyway? It’s caked in rust and falling apart”.

“I’m off to sup with the devil”.

“Ah, I understand, he who sups with the devil should use a long spoon”.

“Precisely so”.

“But you are God, surely the lord of the universe doesn’t require a long spoon to protect himself from the prince of darkness?”

“You don’t understand. It’s a tradition. Without tradition where would we be?”

“But, with respect, you are the supreme being, can’t you create a new long spoon?”

“But I was extremely fond of the old one. Where can it be?”

“Perhaps the devil is using it to stir up trouble on earth”.

“That is a terrible joke and unworthy of an ark angel”.

“No, seriously sire your long spoon is ideally suited for stirring up humanity”.

“You may have a point. Really it isn’t good enough. Satan should be content with that fearsome pitch fawk of his but, no he has to go and steal my long spoon”.

“Excuse me sire, what is that you are sitting on?”

“Oh, its my long spoon, heaven be praised. Oh heavens I’ll have to apologise to Lucifer, fancy accusing him of stealing it like that”.

“Well sire I guess there has to be a first time for everything …”.

What Is The Point?

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What is the point? The point of what? The point of anything? Anything? Yes. What is the point of the question for, if there is no point why ask what the point is? I don’t know, why engage me in conversation if there is no point. But, you my friend asked what is the point. Indeed I did so perhaps to ask the question is, itself to assume there is, somewhere a point for if there is not why should I bother to engage in this fruitless internal dialogue? So there is a point then? Yes, maybe or perhaps I am entangling myself in overwiseness, showing off for effect. Maybe you are but, if so what is the point of such narsasistic behaviour? I don’t know, what is the point of anything? Oh I refuse to argue with you. This whole debate is, ultimately pointless. Why engage in it then? Silence

Lets Hear It For The Excentrics

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It was a lovely summer’s evening. The birds sang and I felt the need for a convivial pint in my favourite local. I harnessed up the large brindle wolf (sorry guide dog) and set out in search of a cooling beer.

On the way through the churchyard (the church stands directly opposite my luxurious penthouse, sorry flat), I was accosted by a gentleman sitting in his car

“Excuse me, how do you spell Tudor?”

“Tudor”.

“Oh I always thought it was Tuder with an er”.

“No it’s definitely Tudor”.

I have no idea whether this gentleman was attempting to engage in japery of some kind (if so I fail to see the joke although the incident was bizarre in the extreme). Perhaps he was participating in one of those research projects in which the researcher asks random strangers peculiar questions in order to gauge their reactions. Alternatively was he (how can I put this politely) err, “away with the fairies”, or “a few sandwiches short of a picnic”. On balance I am inclined to the view that he fits into that long and honourable tradition of British excentrics, those men and women who enliven our often humdrum existences with their interesting and often bizarre mode of living. Lets hear it for the excentrics, long may they continue.

Drunk

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“Come on big man” the drunk slurred. He attempted to steady himself glaring bailfully at his opponent who looked back, his bloodshot eyes stirring straight into those of the drunkard.

“Come on, think you’re tough. I’ll show you what hard is” the drunk said spittle flying from his lips. The other mimicked the drunkard’s actions further inflaming his addled brain.

“You taking the piss are you, I’ll make you smile on the other side of your ugly mug, you see if I won’t”. The drunkard stepped back and, raising his fist brought it crashing down on the face of his tormenter. The shop window shattered sending shards of glass tinkling down onto the pavement.

“Come back you coward” yelled the drunkard glaring at the spot where his reflection had been.

There’s Non So Blind As Those Who Can Not See

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There I was, minding my own business, strolling through the churchyard which lies opposite my flats when a wee small voice intruded into my consciousness,

“Can you see mate?”

I paused my guide dog Trigger waiting patiently at my side,

“Pardon?”

“Can you see?”

With a winning smile I responded,

“Are you stupid?” before continuing on my journey, Trigger leading the way.