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Those Scotsmen.......


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| Men v WomenCorny | Officialdom

These Scotsmen!

In the lounge of a London hotel the guest from Scotland had been boring everybody with tales of the wonderful things he had done in his time.  Well now said a weary guest, at last, "suppose you tell us of something you can't do and I will show you that I as an Englishman can do it".  Thank you kindly, replied Sandy, "I canna pay my bill".

Two Scotsman went bathing in the sea and one bet the other 50 pence that he could stay longer underwater than his companion, who promptly accepted the wager.  The bodies have not yet been recovered.

A man who was about to pass away sent for his friends, an Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman.  "In my time" he said, "I've been a pretty good friend to you all, and now I'm going to ask you to show your regard for me in an unmistakable way.  Before I'm taken to the tomb, I want each of you to place £20 in my coffin.  Do you promise?"

They promised, and in due time performed.  First came the Englishman, who respectfully deposited a twenty pound note: next, the Irishman, who sorrowfully put in a similar bank note: and, finally, the Scotsman who gently remarked, "just cash it when it suits you John," took out the two £20 notes and dropped in a cheque for £60.

The Fake Bus Pass

In Edinburgh, Scotland the bus is a popular form of transport and occasionally a passenger will try to cheat. So when the driver's suspicions were raised by a pass he took the pass and examined it more closely. The woman abandoned the pass and quickly left the bus. It was a fake, made with a scanner and PC, but pretty realistic.

The pass contained a photograph of her, so 2 days later the bus company had the fake card, complete with photograph, 3 foot wide displayed upstairs and downstairs in all their buses. A banner proclaimed to the city of Edinburgh "This Woman is a cheat" Needless to say, the bus company has not lost too much revenue lately.

Scotsmen in the dock

Now that reminds me of the story of old Sandy who was in court for being drunk and disorderly. He remarked to he Sheriff, "Yon big polis Sergeant is jist a rotten big bastirt. Ah wisna daein ony hairm".  "Now Now, Sandy", said the Sheriff, "You are not allowed to say what you like in court aboot the police". "Weel", said Sandy, "Kin Ah think whit Ah like". "Yes , Sandy", said the Sheriff, "No one can stop you thinking what you like". "Aye, Richt", said Sandy, "Weel, Sheriff, Ah hae tae say Ah still  THINK yon big Sergeant's a rotten Bastirt". 

 

Reminds me of Wee Jimmy up in the dock for Drunk & Disorderly. The judge  asks how he pleads...Wee Jimmy stands up and says, "It wiz me, your honour, hands up I was drunk as a judge". The judge taken aback and not a little offended says in his best Kelvinside accent, " I believe the term you are looking for is drunk as a lord, its SOBER as a Judge", Wee Jimmy looks thoughtful. "Right enough M'lud".  Frae Auld Bob Poffers:

The story is told of a young Scottish lad named Angus who was sitting with a wee lass on a low stone wall, holding hands, silently gazing out over the loch.

Then finally the girl looked at the boy and said, "A penny for your
thoughts, Angus."

"Well, uh, I was thinkin'...perhaps it's aboot time for a wee kiss."

The girl blushed, then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Then he blushed. The two turned once again to gaze out over the loch.

Minutes passed and the girl spoke again. "Another penny for your
thoughts, Angus."

"Well, uh, I was thinkin' perhaps it's noo time aboot time for a wee cuddle."

The girl blushed, then leaned over and cuddled him for a few seconds.

Then he blushed. Then the two turned once again to gaze out over the loch.

After a while, she again said, "Another penny for your thoughts,
Angus."

"Well, uh, I was thinkin' perhaps it's aboot time you let me put my
hand on your leg."

The girl blushed, then took his hand and put it on her knee. Then he blushed. The the two turned once again to gaze out over the lock for several minutes before the girl spoke again.

"Another penny for your thoughts, Angus."

The young man glanced down with a furled brow. "Weel, noo," he said,"my thoughts are a wee bit more serious this time."

"Really?" said the lass in a whisper, filled with anticipation.

"Aye," said the lad, nodding.

The girl looked away in shyness, began to blush, and bit her lip in anticipation of the ultimate request.

Then he said, "Dae ye nae think it's aboot time ye paid me the first
three pennies?

Hardy Folk

40 degrees F - Californians shiver uncontrollably. People in Scotland strip down to their vests and sunbathe  
35 degrees F - Italian cars won't start. People in Scotland drive with the windows down.   
20 degrees F - Folk in Florida wear coats, gloves, and wool hats. People in Scotland throw on a long-sleeved T-shirt.   
15 degrees F - Californians begin to evacuate the state. People in Scotland go swimming in the North Sea.   
Zero degrees - New York landlords finally turn up the heat. People in Scotland have the last BBQ before it gets cold.   
10 degrees below zero - In Miami, mortality rate due to exposure rockets. People in Scotland enjoy an ice cream.   
20 degrees below zero - Californians fly away to Mexico for a holiday. People in Scotland relent and throw on a light jacket.   
80 degrees below zero - Polar bears begin to evacuate the Arctic. Scottish Boy Scouts postpone" Winter Survival" classes because it's not cold enough.   
100 degrees below zero - Santa Claus abandons the North Pole. People in Scotland pull down the ear flaps on their balaclavas.   
173 degrees below zero - Ethyl alcohol freezes. People in Scotland get frustrated when they can't defrost their porridge.
297 degrees below zero - Microbial life start to disappear. Scottish cows complain of farmers with cold hands.   
460 degrees below zero - ALL atomic motion stops. People in Scotland start saying "Here it's chilly, you cauld an aw?"   
500 degrees below zero - Hell freezes over. PEOPLE IN SCOTLAND START TO SUPPORT ENGLAND IN THE WORLD CUP!

Cheerful Folk
Depressed Man Diagnosed as 'Scottish' - A 'true' story from a US newspaper... 
Alistair McGregor, an expatriate Scottish man living in America, was  recently diagnosed as clinically depressed, tanked up on  anti-depressants and scheduled for controversial Shock Therapy when  doctors realized he wasn't depressed at all... only Scottish. 

Mr. McGregor, a Scottish man whose characteristic pessimism and  gloomy perspective were interpreted as serious clinical depression,  was led on a nightmare journey through the American psychiatric  system.

Doctors described McGregor as suffering from Pervasive Negative  Anticipation - a belief that everything will turn out for the worst,  whether it's  trains arriving late, Scotland's chances at winning any international  sports event or even his own prospects to get ahead in life and achieve his dreams.  "The satisfaction Mr. McGregor seemed to get from his pessimism  seemed particularly pathological," reported the doctors.

"They put me on everything - Lithium, Prozac, St John's Wort,  Ginseng", said Mr. McGregor. "They even told me to sit in front of a  big light for an hour a day or I'd become suicidal. I kept telling  them this was all pointless and they said it was exactly that sort of  attitude which got me here in the first place."

Running out of ideas, his doctors finally resorted to a course of  "weapons grade MDMA", the only noticeable effect of which was six  hours of  speedy repetitions of the phrases "mustn't grumble" and "not too  bad, really."

Mr. McGregor had six months of therapy but seemed to mainly want to  talk about the weather - how miserable and cold it was in winter and  later how difficult and wet it was in summer. The doctors felt he  wasn't responding to therapy at all and so recommended drastic action  - namely ECT or shock treatment.

"I was all strapped down on the table and they were about to put the  rubber bit in my mouth when the psychiatric nurse picked up on my  accent," said Mr. McGregor. "I remember her saying 'Oh my God, I think  we're making a terrible mistake'."

Nurse Alice Sheen was a big fan of Scottish comedy giving her an  understanding of the Scottish psyche. "Classic comedy characters like  Chick Murray, Will Fife and The Crankies, all hopeless cases with no  chance of ever doing well or escaping their circumstances," she  explained to the baffled US medics. "In Scotland, being depressed to  the point of suicidal is considered the norm and is not seen as  pathological at all."

Identifying Mr.McGregor as Scottish changed his diagnosis from  'clinical depression' to 'rather quaint and charming' and he was  immediately discharged from hospital, with a selection of brightly  colored leaflets and an "I love New York" T-shirt. 

From the Personal column of a Scottish newspaper:

Grossly overweight Buckie turf-cutter, 42 years old and 23 stone,  Gemini, seeks nimble sexpot, preferably South American, for tango  sessions, candlelit dinners and humid nights of screaming passion.  Must have own car and be willing to travel. Box 09/08

Aberdeen man, 50, in desperate need of a ride. Anything considered.  Box06/03

Heavy drinker, 35, Glasgow area, seeks gorgeous sex addict interested  in pints, fags, Celtic football club and starting scraps on  Sauchiehall Street at three in the morning. Box 73/82.

Bitter, disillusioned Dundonian lately rejected by longtime fiancée  seeks decent, honest, reliable woman - if such a thing still exists in  this cruel world of hatchet-faced bitches. Box 53/41

Ginger-haired Partick troublemaker, gets slit-eyed and shirty after a  few scoops, seeks attractive, wealthy lady for bail purposes, maybe more. Box 84/87

Artistic Edinburgh woman, 53, petite, loves rainy walks on the beach,  writing poetry, unusual sea-shells and interesting brown rice dishes,  seeks mystic dreamer for companionship, back rubs and more as we  bounce along like little tumbling clouds on life's beautiful crazy  journey. Strong stomach essential Box 12/32

Chartered accountant, 42, seeks female for marriage. Duties will  include cooking, light cleaning and accompanying me to office social  functions. References required.  No timewasters. Box 23/45

Bad-tempered, foul-mouthed old bastard living in a damp cottage in the  arse end of Orkney seeks attractive 21-year old blonde lady with big  chest. Box 40/27

Devil-worshiper, Stirling area, seeks like-minded lady for wining and  dining, good conversation, dancing, romantic walks and slaughtering  dogs in cemeteries at midnight under the flinty light of a pale moon.  Box 52/07

Attractive brunette, Maryhill area, winner of Miss Wrangler  competition at Framptons Nightclub, Maryhill, in September 1978, seeks  nostalgic man who's not afraid to cry, for long nights spent  comfort-drinking and listening to old Abba records. Please, Please!  Box 30/41 

Govan man, 27, medium build, brown hair, blue eyes, seeks alibi for the night of February 27 between 8pm and 11.30pm

The English strike back

The English, the English, the English are best: 
I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest! 
The rottenest bits of these islands of ours 
We've left in the hands of three unfriendly powers. 
Examine the Irishman, Welshman or Scot; 
You'll find he's a stinker like as not.

The Scotsman is mean, as we're all well aware, 
And bony and blotchy and covered with hair. 
He eats salted porridge, he works all the day, 
And he hasn't got bishops to show him the way. 

The English, the English, the English are best: 
I wouldn't give tuppence for all of the rest! 
The Irishman, now, our contempt is beneath, 
He sleeps in his boots and he lies in his teeth, 
He blows up policemen (or so I have heard), 
And blames it on Cromwell and William the Third. 

The English are noble, the English are nice, 
And worth any other at double the price! 
The Welshman's dishonest, he cheats when he can, 
And little and dark, more like monkey than man. 
He works underground with a lamp in his hat, 
And he sings far too loud, far too often, and 
FLA-A-A-T. 

And crossing the Channel, one cannot say much 
For the French or the Spanish, the Danish or Dutch; 
The Germans are German, the Russians are Red, 
And the Greeks and Italians eat garlic in bed. 
The English are moral, the English are good, 
And clever and modest and misunderstood! 

And all the world over, each nation's the same, 
They've simply no notion of Playing the Game: 
They argue with umpires; they cheer when they've won; 
And they practise beforehand, which ruins the fun. 

The English, the English, the English are best: 
So up with the English, and down with the rest! 
It's not that they're wicked or naturally bad... 
It's knowing they're FOREIGN that makes them so mad! 

 

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False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil. ~~ Socrates

 

 

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