Feck the Itinerary

Motorcycle adventures and other stuff …

Christmas crackers …

December 24th, 2009

It is now, officially, Christmas Day.  It is 00:12 here in the UK, Roynie and I have drained a couple of bottles and the turkey is well and truly stuffed. The only thing missing is the Christmas crackers for the table.  Please help out with some pathetic two-liner jokes.

Here is my starter for 10.

“Did you hear they have re-named Viagra …? It is now called Mycoxaflopin” (thanks to Anton, our decorator, for this)

Any others in a similar vein gratefully welcomed.  Have a wonderful day.  Happy Christmas.

23rd December – Happy Christmas

December 23rd, 2009

I have sat down several times during the last couple of weeks, intending to update this blog, but each time I have struggled to put more than two sentences together. Despite this, the site still appears to be attracting visitors. Whoever you are, I thank you for your loyalty.

Once my mother was on her feet, her recovery seemed to gain momentum. She dispensed with the dreaded Zimmer frame within a week and, using a simple stick, was soon able to negotiate first the first floor passage, then a flight of stairs. The effort exhausted her, of course, as she was still eating very little: ‘Build Up’ soups and my homemade sandwiches being the preferred menu. Then there was a real setback when Mum’s wound (still not completely healed after her July operation) developed an abscess and had to be cut open again! Nevertheless, having been cleaned up by some friendly maggots, we were finally given a discharge date of 17th December. And so it was that, last Thursday, Mum and I boarded the 3.30pm Portsmouth – Fishbourne ferry, and I brought her home.

I never really saw myself as a nurse or even a particularly good housekeeper, but, for the time being, this is my new vocation. Though I must say the community health services here in the Isle of Wight have proved spectacularly efficient. Within 24 hours of our arrival, we had had a visit from Mum’s GP and a screening call from the Occupational Therapists with the offer of immediate loan equipment from the local Red Cross. The District Nurse confirmed that she would be visiting the following morning, and the Stoma Nurse rang to welcome Mum home and made an appointment for Monday, and the Physiotherapists rang to apologise for the service being closed over Christmas, but promised they would be in touch the first week in January …

It felt good to know that I wasn’t on my own, particularly as I have had to leave John behind in London, overseeing the last of the redecorating work. For the time being Mum is still too weak to be left alone for more than an hour or so at a time, so JR is tasked with dressing the house for the market. An onorous responsibility, as he frequently reminds me that “real men don’t plump cushions”. Naturally, I, in all my feminine wisdom, have left him with a mountain of them, all carefully colour-coordinated, together with a substantial collection of vases, ornaments and pictures. In an ideal world, I would be there to tell John which rooms they were intended for. Instead, we have Skype and a webcam.

Neither Mum nor I have spent Christmas in the Isle of Wight for at least 15 years, and John has never spent Christmas here. The discharge date came too late for us to make any social arrangements, so this year will be rather different to past Christmasses. We haven’t sent any cards and presents have been kept to the edible or drinkable kind only. Even so, I have a feeling that this year will be one of the best.

I am looking forward to John’s arrival tomorrow, when we will be sure to raise a glass to all our friends and wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy, healthy and peaceful New Year.

A New Joke

December 23rd, 2009

A good looking man walked into an agent’s office in Hollywood and said “I want to be a movie star.”

Tall, handsome and with experience on Broadway, he had the right credentials.

The agent asked, “What’s your name?”

The guy said, “My name is Penis van Lesbian.”

The agent said, “Sir, I hate to tell you, but in order to get into Hollywood , you are going to have to change your name.”

“I will not change my name! The van Lesbian name is centuries old,  I will not disrespect my grandfather by changing my name. Not ever.”

The agent said, “Sir, I have worked in Hollywood for years … you will never go far in Hollywood with a name like Penis van Lesbian!  I’m telling you, you will have to change your name or I will not be able to represent you.”

“So be it!  I guess we will not do business together” the guy said and he left the agent’s office.

Five Years Later … The agent opens an envelope sent to his office.

Inside the envelope is a letter and a check for $50,000. The agent is awe-struck, who would possibly send him $ 50,000? He reads the letter enclosed …

“Dear Sir, Five years ago, I came into your office wanting to become an actor in Hollywood, you told me I needed to change my name. Determined to make it with my God-given birth name, I refused. You told me I would never make it in Hollywood with a name like Penis van Lesbian. After I left your office, I thought about what you said. I decided you were right. I had to change my name. I had too much pride to return to your office, so I signed with another agent. I would never have made it without changing my name, so the enclosed check is a token of my appreciation.

Thank you for your advice.

Sincerely,

Dick van Dyke

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL

December 19th, 2009

OK   what’s going  on  is everybody too busy to wish each other  a Merry Christmas?

  to the Elite group of Feck it,   Brigid, John, Willie Jim, (the other John), Bill, Greg, Nelson, Jenny, Johnnie, Julie, Joe, Cathy.

   May your presents  be  bigger  than ever   and  may  the new  year  be  the  BEST  ever.

  chris and Florence  Sanfilippo

  

Irish humor

December 11th, 2009

These are for Willie:

 Love The Irish
Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important meeting and couldn ‘ t find a parking place.   Looking up to heaven he said, ‘ Lord take pity on me.   If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish Whiskey! ‘ 

Miraculously, a parking place appeared.

Paddy looked up again and said, ‘ Never mind, I found one. ‘ 
*** 
 Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and asks the first man he meets, ‘ Do you want to go to heaven?  

The man said, ‘ I do, Father. ‘

The priest said, ‘ Then stand over there against the wall. ‘

Then the priest asked the second man, ‘ Do you want to go to heaven? ‘

‘ Certainly, Father, ‘ the man replied. 
‘ Then stand over there against the wall, ‘ said the priest.

Then Father Murphy walked up to O ‘ Toole and asked, ‘ Do you want to go to heaven? ‘

O ‘ Toole said, ‘ No, I don’t Father. ‘ 

The priest said, ‘ I don’t believe this.   You mean to tell me that when you die you don’t want to go to heaven? ‘

O ‘ Toole said, ‘ Oh, when I die , yes.   I thought you were getting a group together to go right now. ‘ 

*** 

Paddy was in  New York  .

He was patiently waiting and watching the traffic cop on a busy street crossing.  The cop stopped the flow of traffic and shouted, ‘ Okay, pedestrians. ‘   Then he’d allow the traffic to pass.

He’d done this several times, and Paddy still stood on the sidewalk.

After the cop had shouted, ‘ Pedestrians! ‘ for the tenth time, Paddy went over to him and said, ‘ Is it not about time ye let the Catholics across? ‘

***
Gallagher opened the morning newspaper and was dumb founded to read in the obituary column that he had died.   He quickly phoned his best friend, Finney.

‘ Did you see the paper? ‘ asked Gallagher. ‘ They say I died!! ‘

‘ Yes, I saw it! ‘ replied Finney.   ‘ Where are ye callin ‘ from? ‘

***
An Irish priest is driving down to  New York  and gets stopped for speeding in  Connecticut . The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest’s breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car.

He says, ‘ Sir, have you been drinking? ‘

‘ Just water, ‘ says the priest.

The trooper says, ‘ Then why do I smell wine? ‘

The priest looks at the bottle and says, ‘ Good Lord! He’s done it again! ‘

*** 

Walking into the bar, Mike said to Charlie the bartender, ‘ Pour me a stiff one – just had another fight with the little woman. ‘ 

‘ Oh yeah? ‘ said Charlie, ‘ And how did this one end? ‘

‘ When it was over, ‘ Mike replied, ‘ She came to me on her hands and knees. ‘

‘ Really, ‘ said Charles, ‘ Now that’s a switch!  What did she say? ‘ 

She said, ‘ Come out from under the bed, you little chicken. ‘

*** 

Patton staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking buddy, Paddy.   He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Kathleen.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step.   As he caught himself by grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his rump.   A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Patton sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding.   He managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid as best he could on each place he saw blood.

He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his way to bed.

In the morning, Patton woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt and Kathleen staring at him from across the room.

She said, ‘ You were drunk again last night weren ‘ t you? ‘

Patton said, ‘ Why you say such a mean thing? ‘

‘ Well, ‘ Kathleen said, ‘ it could be the open front door, it could be the broken glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly ……. it’s all those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.