OT: string joke
Question:
This teddy bear says to another teddy bear: "Where’s that tea you said you were going to make?" The other teddy bear replies: "It’s bruin." Aythenkyou. OTS "250805" <my_invisible_fri…@excite.com> wrote in message
news:YkmPe.2002$qe5.1244@newsfe2-gui.ntli.net… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> pegasus wrote: > > "250805" <my_invisible_fri…@excite.com> wrote in message > > news:9ilPe.629$f4.234@newsfe2-win.ntli.net… > >>Mad Mambo Master of Macedonia wrote: > >>>230805 <230…@aslnospam.com> wrote in news:BF30F305.1B19%230805 > >>>@aslnospam.com: > >>>>OB on 23/08/2005 2:27 pm wrote: > >>>>>Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie > >>>>>/snip > >>>>>************* > >>>>ROTFLOL. > >>>>Love it! > >>>>:v) > >>>I found the punchline confusing. > >>Yeah, I only laughed to be polite. > >>Now I want to hear the one about the three-legged camel. > > Don’t know that one. How about this one: > > This Jelly Bean walks into a bar and gets talking to a Smartie. After > > a few beers the Smartie says, > > "Ere, do you fancy going to that new club in town?" > > and the Jelly Bean says > > "No mate, I’m a soft centre, I always end up getting my head kicked > > in." > > So Smartie says > > "Don’t worry about it, I’m a bit of a hard case, I’ll look after > > you." > > So Jelly Bean says > > "Fair enough, as long as you’ll look after me." and off they went. > > After a few more beers in the club, three Lockets walk in. As soon as > > he sees them, Smartie hides under a table, the Lockets take one look > > at JellyBean and start kicking him, punching him and generally having a > > laugh. After a while they get bored and walk out. Jelly Bean pulls his > > battered JellyBean body over to the table and wipes his Jelly Bean > > blood up and turns to Smartie and says > > "I thought you were going to look after me?" > > "I was!" says Smartie, "But those Lockets are just menthol!" > LOL! Good one. > This is another old one: > A white horse goes into a bar and orders a drink. > "You’re not going to believe this, mate, but we’ve got a > drink named after you!" said the barman. > "What? Eric?" said the surprised horse. > [Works with Woodpeckers, Old grouses, Grey Geese, Red Bulls, > and even Teachers with a bit of effort.]
Response:
Oh, for fucks’ sake…groan… OTS "OB" <nevilemo…@yahoo.com> wrote in message
news:1124807269.075784.287500@g14g2000cwa.googlegroups.com… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> 230805 wrote: > > OB on 23/08/2005 12:33 pm wrote: > > > 230805 wrote: > > >> Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord > > >> smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir." > > > I have a soft spot for all jokes involving English pubs being visited > > > by animals or other incongruous and surreal customers. > > > Do you know the one about the rabbit and the toasties? > > No. Perhaps you’d be one of the kindest creatures on the planet and relate > > it to me before you fall in a faint on your sick bed? > > It’s 1:43 now so I’ll just pull up a glass of something cold and shiny > > before last orders and sit here patiently waiting. > Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie. > "I’m sorry, we don’t serve rabbits here," the barman said, somewhat > predictably. "It’s against the law," he added, waving at the notice on > the wall behind him, which read "WARNING. It is illegal to serve > alcoholic beverages to minors, three-legged camels, pieces of string > and talking rabbits." > "Oaw, gorn," says the rabbit. "It’s bleedin’ ‘ard work runnin’ up and > down burrows all day. Just a beer an’ a toastie and then I’ll be on me > way." > The barman relented, partly because he noticed that the presence of > this unexpected customer had sparked quite a deal of interest among the > other regulars. In a flash, it occurred to him that this might be a way > of attracting more curious visitors to the premises. "Just a pint and a > toastie?" he said, doubtfully. "Well, I suppose we could stretch a > point…" > The rabbit thanked him, and when the toastie arrived, wolfed it down, > drained the pint glass in one gulp, and headed out. > The next day, a somewhat larger crowd of regulars were waiting around > at the same time. Sure enough, the rabbit made its reappearance right > on cue. "A pint o’ lager and a cheese toastie, mate," came the > predictable order. There was a murmur of appreciation from the other > customers. This was clearly a rabbit who knew what he wanted. > The barman served him, and then turned back to the opposite counter, > where he was halfway through designing a large poster which read: "Come > and see the amazing DRINKING RABBIT! Lunchtimes, admission 50p". This > could turn out to be the biggest crowdpuller ever. Better even than > Doris the Stripper last year. > The rabbit ate the toastie, drank the beer, and departed. > The same thing happened for the next three days. However, one day, when > the crowd of onlookers had grown very large indeed, the barman was > mortified to find that he had forgotten to stock the fridge with > cheese. There was only the tiniest morsel of cheese left over from the > day before. > "A pint o’ lager and a cheese toastie, mate," the rabbit said. "Same as > usual." > "Look, I’m awfully sorry," said the barman. "It seems we’re fresh out > of cheese…" > "Wot, no cheese?" said the rabbit. "None a’ all?" > "Well, there’s a bit left. Look, how about I make you up a cheese and > ham toastie? We have some very nice York ham, fresh in this morning…" > "Oh, well, orright then, jus’ this once," says the rabbit. "Ham ain’t > my cup of tea, really, but well, these things ‘appen." The barman, > relieved, hastened to comply with the order. > The next day, however, the rabbit failed to appear. And the next, and > the next. The customers drifted away, and the poster had to be taken > down. > One night the barman was lying in bed, when suddenly the curtain > started to rustle, and moments later, standing in the gloom was the > ghost of a rabbit. > "Who are you?" said the barman, wrapping his bedclothes around him in > an involuntary gesture of fear. > "I’m the ghost of your amazing drinking rabbit, mate, aren’t I" said > the ghost. "Come to haunt you for the rest of your days." > "But why?" said the terrified barman. "What have I done? I served you > your beer, just like you asked… Why should you want to haunt me?" > "Well," said the rabbit, "Wanna know what happened after that last time > I visited you? Well, I’ll tell you, mate. You should be more careful > serving rabbits in future, squire, you really should. I died of mixin’ > me toasties." > *************
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -pegasus wrote: > "250805" <my_invisible_fri…@excite.com> wrote in message > news:9ilPe.629$f4.234@newsfe2-win.ntli.net… >>Mad Mambo Master of Macedonia wrote: >>>230805 <230…@aslnospam.com> wrote in news:BF30F305.1B19%230805 >>>@aslnospam.com: >>>>OB on 23/08/2005 2:27 pm wrote: >>>>>Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie >>>>>/snip >>>>>************* >>>>ROTFLOL. >>>>Love it! >>>>:v) >>>I found the punchline confusing. >>Yeah, I only laughed to be polite. >>Now I want to hear the one about the three-legged camel. > Don’t know that one. How about this one: > This Jelly Bean walks into a bar and gets talking to a Smartie. After > a few beers the Smartie says, > "Ere, do you fancy going to that new club in town?" > and the Jelly Bean says > "No mate, I’m a soft centre, I always end up getting my head kicked > in." > So Smartie says > "Don’t worry about it, I’m a bit of a hard case, I’ll look after > you." > So Jelly Bean says > "Fair enough, as long as you’ll look after me." and off they went. > After a few more beers in the club, three Lockets walk in. As soon as > he sees them, Smartie hides under a table, the Lockets take one look > at JellyBean and start kicking him, punching him and generally having a > laugh. After a while they get bored and walk out. Jelly Bean pulls his > battered JellyBean body over to the table and wipes his Jelly Bean > blood up and turns to Smartie and says > "I thought you were going to look after me?" > "I was!" says Smartie, "But those Lockets are just menthol!"
LOL! Good one. This is another old one: A white horse goes into a bar and orders a drink. "You’re not going to believe this, mate, but we’ve got a drink named after you!" said the barman. "What? Eric?" said the surprised horse. [Works with Woodpeckers, Old grouses, Grey Geese, Red Bulls, and even Teachers with a bit of effort.]
Response:
Aythenkyou! OTS "230805" <230…@aslnospam.com> wrote in message
news:xHAOe.1919$Ii.985@newsfe6-gui.ntli.net… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> There were three pieces of string walking down a country > lane in Bedfordshire. Two of the pieces of string had had an > easy life, were rich and looked quite respectable and well > wrought. The third piece of string had suffered tremendous > setbacks throughout his life. He had failed all his exams at > stringschool and dropped out of the only college that had > accepted him, he had never had a job and was penniless and > scrappy looking; knotted up with the pain of loneliness > having recently lost his girlfriend to a really chunky piece > of string from Kensington. Oh, I could go into details about > how miserable and desperate the third piece of string was > but, who would really care? At least he had two friends who > stood by him through thick and thin. And so here they were > walking down a country lane in Bedfordshire. > They’d been walking for hours in the hot sun and it was > getting near lunchtime so they were hungry and thirsty and > miles from anywhere. Fortunately a village hove into view > and they knew there was every chance of finding a cafe or > supermarket to get a few cans of coke. They walked the > entire length of the village but only found a pub: "The > Bitch and Drake" [twinned with "The Dog and Duck" subjoke]. > Now, all the world knows that pubs aren’t licensed to sell > alcohol to pieces of string and the scrappy, poor piece of > string passed on his concerns to his friends. > "Nonsense!" scoffed his friends "We’re wealthy and classy > enough to be served anywhere! Once the landlord sees the > colour of our money, he’ll soon turn a blind eye." But their > frayed friend was adamant. > "Well, we’ll have to at least try to act like we’re legally > allowed to drink alcohol or he’ll have the law on us." > His friends laughed at his pessimism and told him to stop > being such a worrywort. The richest piece of string told > them to wait in the beer garden and strode into the bar with > an air of good breeding and charm. > Inside the bar the locals were in full chatter about the > recent harvest, some were playing darts or shove ha’penny > and there was a couple in the corner gazing adoringly into > each other’s eyes. As the piece of string entered the bar > everyone fell silent and stared in horror, even the couple > in the corner. This caused the piece of string to hesitate > but he caught the barman’s eye and walked up to the bar. > "Three pints of your finest ale, well drawn, my good man." > he said as he slapped a bundle of notes on the bar. > The barman looked him up and down, weighing up just how he > was going to handle the situation, the piece of string was > very fit looking but he was alone, he reckoned he could > handle him if he had to eject him bodily from the pub. But, > he thought he’d give the piece of string a chance to leave > with a bit more dignity. > "Are you a piece of string?" he asked suspisciously. > The piece of string knew the game was up and visibly slumped > giving a sheepish "yes" in reply. The barman pointed at the > open door and told him to beat it, his kind weren’t served > in a respectable pub like his. Everyone watched the piece of > string as he trudged heavily out, he was disheartened to > hear someone chuckle as he left. > He returned to his friends who had been waiting in the beer > garden with the news that he’d been told pieces of string > weren’t welcome in the pub. > "I told you." said the knotty, scrappy piece of string. > "What?!" said the other perfect specimen of stringiness, "I > can’t believe what I’m hearing! Even though your money’s as > good as the next person he wouldn’t serve you? Well I’ll > just soon see about this!" He marched into the pub and > straight up to the bar, ignoring all the gasps of disbelief > from the other patrons. He slammed his money on the counter > and ordered three pints and told the barman to be quick > about it. > "Are you a piece of string?" Asked the barman but before he > could answer the barman continued, "’cause if you are I’ll > have to phone the police. I don’t want any trouble in this > pub but, if you’ve come here to cause trouble I have to warn > you that I have a black belt in Karate and I’m a champion > kick boxer; there isn’t a piece of string in the world who’d > survive a beating from me." > The piece of string swallowed fearfully and backed out of > the bar to the sounds of clapping from the other customers. > He felt completely humiliated as he returned to his > companions. So humiliated that he was actually crying with > frustration. His friends tried to console him and the ratty > piece of string was really offended on his friend’s behalf. > They’d never seen him so cross as he paced up and down > berating the narrow-minded, bigotry his friends had > experienced simply for wanting what all other citizens took > for granted: the right to get drunk. He decided to go in and > have it out with the landlord. > He paused at the doorway, he didn’t have the piles of money > his friends had to bribe anyone and he was a physical wreck > of a piece of string so he’d stand no chance in a fight, but > he had principles and fired up with allegiance to all his > string brothers and sisters he knew he had to stand up and > be counted. > He walked in and, though faltering when he saw the reaction > his entrance had caused, he walked up to the bar and asked > to speak to the landlord. The barman looked him up and down > suspisciously but went out back to get the landlord. He’d > had enough of dealing with string for that afternoon. The > landlord came into the bar to see what the to-do was all > about and instantly saw the ropey piece of string standing > proud yet slightly nervous in the bar. The landlord frowned > and asked: "Are you a piece of string?" > The piece of string looked down at himself realizing why the > landlord had asked him. He was covered in mud from the road > and so badly frayed from the travelling and still knotted up > from his emotional breakdown that he had to confess he was > hardly a good example of stringdom. He sniffed miserably and > replied. "No. I’m a fray’d knot." > Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord > smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir." > er… > boom boom.
Response:
Response:
230805 <230…@aslnospam.com> wrote in news:BF30F305.1B19%230805 @aslnospam.com: > OB on 23/08/2005 2:27 pm wrote: >> Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie >> /snip >> ************* > ROTFLOL. > Love it! >:v)
I found the punchline confusing. — "But," he added, "I think it’s also important for me to go on with my life, to keep a balanced life." George The-Buck-Stops-Elsewhere Bush.
Response:
Mad Mambo Master of Macedonia wrote: – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> 230805 <230…@aslnospam.com> wrote in news:BF30F305.1B19%230805 > @aslnospam.com: >>OB on 23/08/2005 2:27 pm wrote: >>>Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie >>>/snip >>>************* >>ROTFLOL. >>Love it! >>:v) > I found the punchline confusing.
Yeah, I only laughed to be polite. Now I want to hear the one about the three-legged camel.
Response:
"250805" <my_invisible_fri…@excite.com> wrote in message
news:9ilPe.629$f4.234@newsfe2-win.ntli.net… – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -> Mad Mambo Master of Macedonia wrote: > > 230805 <230…@aslnospam.com> wrote in news:BF30F305.1B19%230805 > > @aslnospam.com: > >>OB on 23/08/2005 2:27 pm wrote: > >>>Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie > >>>/snip > >>>************* > >>ROTFLOL. > >>Love it! > >>:v) > > I found the punchline confusing. > Yeah, I only laughed to be polite. > Now I want to hear the one about the three-legged camel.
Don’t know that one. How about this one: This Jelly Bean walks into a bar and gets talking to a Smartie. After a few beers the Smartie says, "Ere, do you fancy going to that new club in town?" and the Jelly Bean says "No mate, I’m a soft centre, I always end up getting my head kicked in." So Smartie says "Don’t worry about it, I’m a bit of a hard case, I’ll look after you." So Jelly Bean says "Fair enough, as long as you’ll look after me." and off they went. After a few more beers in the club, three Lockets walk in. As soon as he sees them, Smartie hides under a table, the Lockets take one look at JellyBean and start kicking him, punching him and generally having a laugh. After a while they get bored and walk out. Jelly Bean pulls his battered JellyBean body over to the table and wipes his Jelly Bean blood up and turns to Smartie and says "I thought you were going to look after me?" "I was!" says Smartie, "But those Lockets are just menthol!" — For more information about this NNTP posting service, contact: h…@asarian-host.net — for all info about our server. If you want an anonymous account, visit our sign-up page: https://asarian-host.net/cgi-bin/signup.cgi
Response:
OB on 23/08/2005 2:27 pm wrote: > Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie > /snip > *************
ROTFLOL. Love it! :v)
Response:
230805 wrote: > Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord > smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir."
I have a soft spot for all jokes involving English pubs being visited by animals or other incongruous and surreal customers. Do you know the one about the rabbit and the toasties?
Response:
OB on 23/08/2005 12:33 pm wrote: > 230805 wrote: >> Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord >> smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir." > I have a soft spot for all jokes involving English pubs being visited > by animals or other incongruous and surreal customers. > Do you know the one about the rabbit and the toasties?
No. Perhaps you’d be one of the kindest creatures on the planet and relate it to me before you fall in a faint on your sick bed? It’s 1:43 now so I’ll just pull up a glass of something cold and shiny before last orders and sit here patiently waiting.
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -230805 wrote: > OB on 23/08/2005 12:33 pm wrote: > > 230805 wrote: > >> Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord > >> smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir." > > I have a soft spot for all jokes involving English pubs being visited > > by animals or other incongruous and surreal customers. > > Do you know the one about the rabbit and the toasties? > No. Perhaps you’d be one of the kindest creatures on the planet and relate > it to me before you fall in a faint on your sick bed? > It’s 1:43 now so I’ll just pull up a glass of something cold and shiny > before last orders and sit here patiently waiting.
Rabbit goes into a pub and orders a pint of lager and a cheese toastie. "I’m sorry, we don’t serve rabbits here," the barman said, somewhat predictably. "It’s against the law," he added, waving at the notice on the wall behind him, which read "WARNING. It is illegal to serve alcoholic beverages to minors, three-legged camels, pieces of string and talking rabbits." "Oaw, gorn," says the rabbit. "It’s bleedin’ ‘ard work runnin’ up and down burrows all day. Just a beer an’ a toastie and then I’ll be on me way." The barman relented, partly because he noticed that the presence of this unexpected customer had sparked quite a deal of interest among the other regulars. In a flash, it occurred to him that this might be a way of attracting more curious visitors to the premises. "Just a pint and a toastie?" he said, doubtfully. "Well, I suppose we could stretch a point…" The rabbit thanked him, and when the toastie arrived, wolfed it down, drained the pint glass in one gulp, and headed out. The next day, a somewhat larger crowd of regulars were waiting around at the same time. Sure enough, the rabbit made its reappearance right on cue. "A pint o’ lager and a cheese toastie, mate," came the predictable order. There was a murmur of appreciation from the other customers. This was clearly a rabbit who knew what he wanted. The barman served him, and then turned back to the opposite counter, where he was halfway through designing a large poster which read: "Come and see the amazing DRINKING RABBIT! Lunchtimes, admission 50p". This could turn out to be the biggest crowdpuller ever. Better even than Doris the Stripper last year. The rabbit ate the toastie, drank the beer, and departed. The same thing happened for the next three days. However, one day, when the crowd of onlookers had grown very large indeed, the barman was mortified to find that he had forgotten to stock the fridge with cheese. There was only the tiniest morsel of cheese left over from the day before. "A pint o’ lager and a cheese toastie, mate," the rabbit said. "Same as usual." "Look, I’m awfully sorry," said the barman. "It seems we’re fresh out of cheese…" "Wot, no cheese?" said the rabbit. "None a’ all?" "Well, there’s a bit left. Look, how about I make you up a cheese and ham toastie? We have some very nice York ham, fresh in this morning…" "Oh, well, orright then, jus’ this once," says the rabbit. "Ham ain’t my cup of tea, really, but well, these things ‘appen." The barman, relieved, hastened to comply with the order. The next day, however, the rabbit failed to appear. And the next, and the next. The customers drifted away, and the poster had to be taken down. One night the barman was lying in bed, when suddenly the curtain started to rustle, and moments later, standing in the gloom was the ghost of a rabbit. "Who are you?" said the barman, wrapping his bedclothes around him in an involuntary gesture of fear. "I’m the ghost of your amazing drinking rabbit, mate, aren’t I" said the ghost. "Come to haunt you for the rest of your days." "But why?" said the terrified barman. "What have I done? I served you your beer, just like you asked… Why should you want to haunt me?" "Well," said the rabbit, "Wanna know what happened after that last time I visited you? Well, I’ll tell you, mate. You should be more careful serving rabbits in future, squire, you really should. I died of mixin’ me toasties." *************
Response:
- Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -230805 (230…@aslnospam.com) writes: > There were three pieces of string walking down a country > lane in Bedfordshire. Two of the pieces of string had had an > easy life, were rich and looked quite respectable and well > wrought. The third piece of string had suffered tremendous > setbacks throughout his life. He had failed all his exams at > stringschool and dropped out of the only college that had > accepted him, he had never had a job and was penniless and > scrappy looking; knotted up with the pain of loneliness > having recently lost his girlfriend to a really chunky piece > of string from Kensington. Oh, I could go into details about > how miserable and desperate the third piece of string was > but, who would really care? At least he had two friends who > stood by him through thick and thin. And so here they were > walking down a country lane in Bedfordshire. > They’d been walking for hours in the hot sun and it was > getting near lunchtime so they were hungry and thirsty and > miles from anywhere. Fortunately a village hove into view > and they knew there was every chance of finding a cafe or > supermarket to get a few cans of coke. They walked the > entire length of the village but only found a pub: "The > Bitch and Drake" [twinned with "The Dog and Duck" subjoke]. > Now, all the world knows that pubs aren’t licensed to sell > alcohol to pieces of string and the scrappy, poor piece of > string passed on his concerns to his friends. > "Nonsense!" scoffed his friends "We’re wealthy and classy > enough to be served anywhere! Once the landlord sees the > colour of our money, he’ll soon turn a blind eye." But their > frayed friend was adamant. > "Well, we’ll have to at least try to act like we’re legally > allowed to drink alcohol or he’ll have the law on us." > His friends laughed at his pessimism and told him to stop > being such a worrywort. The richest piece of string told > them to wait in the beer garden and strode into the bar with > an air of good breeding and charm. > Inside the bar the locals were in full chatter about the > recent harvest, some were playing darts or shove ha’penny > and there was a couple in the corner gazing adoringly into > each other’s eyes. As the piece of string entered the bar > everyone fell silent and stared in horror, even the couple > in the corner. This caused the piece of string to hesitate > but he caught the barman’s eye and walked up to the bar. > "Three pints of your finest ale, well drawn, my good man." > he said as he slapped a bundle of notes on the bar. > The barman looked him up and down, weighing up just how he > was going to handle the situation, the piece of string was > very fit looking but he was alone, he reckoned he could > handle him if he had to eject him bodily from the pub. But, > he thought he’d give the piece of string a chance to leave > with a bit more dignity. > "Are you a piece of string?" he asked suspisciously. > The piece of string knew the game was up and visibly slumped > giving a sheepish "yes" in reply. The barman pointed at the > open door and told him to beat it, his kind weren’t served > in a respectable pub like his. Everyone watched the piece of > string as he trudged heavily out, he was disheartened to > hear someone chuckle as he left. > He returned to his friends who had been waiting in the beer > garden with the news that he’d been told pieces of string > weren’t welcome in the pub. > "I told you." said the knotty, scrappy piece of string. > "What?!" said the other perfect specimen of stringiness, "I > can’t believe what I’m hearing! Even though your money’s as > good as the next person he wouldn’t serve you? Well I’ll > just soon see about this!" He marched into the pub and > straight up to the bar, ignoring all the gasps of disbelief > from the other patrons. He slammed his money on the counter > and ordered three pints and told the barman to be quick > about it. > "Are you a piece of string?" Asked the barman but before he > could answer the barman continued, "’cause if you are I’ll > have to phone the police. I don’t want any trouble in this > pub but, if you’ve come here to cause trouble I have to warn > you that I have a black belt in Karate and I’m a champion > kick boxer; there isn’t a piece of string in the world who’d > survive a beating from me." > The piece of string swallowed fearfully and backed out of > the bar to the sounds of clapping from the other customers. > He felt completely humiliated as he returned to his > companions. So humiliated that he was actually crying with > frustration. His friends tried to console him and the ratty > piece of string was really offended on his friend’s behalf. > They’d never seen him so cross as he paced up and down > berating the narrow-minded, bigotry his friends had > experienced simply for wanting what all other citizens took > for granted: the right to get drunk. He decided to go in and > have it out with the landlord. > He paused at the doorway, he didn’t have the piles of money > his friends had to bribe anyone and he was a physical wreck > of a piece of string so he’d stand no chance in a fight, but > he had principles and fired up with allegiance to all his > string brothers and sisters he knew he had to stand up and > be counted. > He walked in and, though faltering when he saw the reaction > his entrance had caused, he walked up to the bar and asked > to speak to the landlord. The barman looked him up and down > suspisciously but went out back to get the landlord. He’d > had enough of dealing with string for that afternoon. The > landlord came into the bar to see what the to-do was all > about and instantly saw the ropey piece of string standing > proud yet slightly nervous in the bar. The landlord frowned > and asked: "Are you a piece of string?" > The piece of string looked down at himself realizing why the > landlord had asked him. He was covered in mud from the road > and so badly frayed from the travelling and still knotted up > from his emotional breakdown that he had to confess he was > hardly a good example of stringdom. He sniffed miserably and > replied. "No. I’m a fray’d knot." > Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord > smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir." > er… > boom boom.
:) —
Response:
There were three pieces of string walking down a country lane in Bedfordshire. Two of the pieces of string had had an easy life, were rich and looked quite respectable and well wrought. The third piece of string had suffered tremendous setbacks throughout his life. He had failed all his exams at stringschool and dropped out of the only college that had accepted him, he had never had a job and was penniless and scrappy looking; knotted up with the pain of loneliness having recently lost his girlfriend to a really chunky piece of string from Kensington. Oh, I could go into details about how miserable and desperate the third piece of string was but, who would really care? At least he had two friends who stood by him through thick and thin. And so here they were walking down a country lane in Bedfordshire. They’d been walking for hours in the hot sun and it was getting near lunchtime so they were hungry and thirsty and miles from anywhere. Fortunately a village hove into view and they knew there was every chance of finding a cafe or supermarket to get a few cans of coke. They walked the entire length of the village but only found a pub: "The Bitch and Drake" [twinned with "The Dog and Duck" subjoke]. Now, all the world knows that pubs aren’t licensed to sell alcohol to pieces of string and the scrappy, poor piece of string passed on his concerns to his friends. "Nonsense!" scoffed his friends "We’re wealthy and classy enough to be served anywhere! Once the landlord sees the colour of our money, he’ll soon turn a blind eye." But their frayed friend was adamant. "Well, we’ll have to at least try to act like we’re legally allowed to drink alcohol or he’ll have the law on us." His friends laughed at his pessimism and told him to stop being such a worrywort. The richest piece of string told them to wait in the beer garden and strode into the bar with an air of good breeding and charm. Inside the bar the locals were in full chatter about the recent harvest, some were playing darts or shove ha’penny and there was a couple in the corner gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes. As the piece of string entered the bar everyone fell silent and stared in horror, even the couple in the corner. This caused the piece of string to hesitate but he caught the barman’s eye and walked up to the bar. "Three pints of your finest ale, well drawn, my good man." he said as he slapped a bundle of notes on the bar. The barman looked him up and down, weighing up just how he was going to handle the situation, the piece of string was very fit looking but he was alone, he reckoned he could handle him if he had to eject him bodily from the pub. But, he thought he’d give the piece of string a chance to leave with a bit more dignity. "Are you a piece of string?" he asked suspisciously. The piece of string knew the game was up and visibly slumped giving a sheepish "yes" in reply. The barman pointed at the open door and told him to beat it, his kind weren’t served in a respectable pub like his. Everyone watched the piece of string as he trudged heavily out, he was disheartened to hear someone chuckle as he left. He returned to his friends who had been waiting in the beer garden with the news that he’d been told pieces of string weren’t welcome in the pub. "I told you." said the knotty, scrappy piece of string. "What?!" said the other perfect specimen of stringiness, "I can’t believe what I’m hearing! Even though your money’s as good as the next person he wouldn’t serve you? Well I’ll just soon see about this!" He marched into the pub and straight up to the bar, ignoring all the gasps of disbelief from the other patrons. He slammed his money on the counter and ordered three pints and told the barman to be quick about it. "Are you a piece of string?" Asked the barman but before he could answer the barman continued, "’cause if you are I’ll have to phone the police. I don’t want any trouble in this pub but, if you’ve come here to cause trouble I have to warn you that I have a black belt in Karate and I’m a champion kick boxer; there isn’t a piece of string in the world who’d survive a beating from me." The piece of string swallowed fearfully and backed out of the bar to the sounds of clapping from the other customers. He felt completely humiliated as he returned to his companions. So humiliated that he was actually crying with frustration. His friends tried to console him and the ratty piece of string was really offended on his friend’s behalf. They’d never seen him so cross as he paced up and down berating the narrow-minded, bigotry his friends had experienced simply for wanting what all other citizens took for granted: the right to get drunk. He decided to go in and have it out with the landlord. He paused at the doorway, he didn’t have the piles of money his friends had to bribe anyone and he was a physical wreck of a piece of string so he’d stand no chance in a fight, but he had principles and fired up with allegiance to all his string brothers and sisters he knew he had to stand up and be counted. He walked in and, though faltering when he saw the reaction his entrance had caused, he walked up to the bar and asked to speak to the landlord. The barman looked him up and down suspisciously but went out back to get the landlord. He’d had enough of dealing with string for that afternoon. The landlord came into the bar to see what the to-do was all about and instantly saw the ropey piece of string standing proud yet slightly nervous in the bar. The landlord frowned and asked: "Are you a piece of string?" The piece of string looked down at himself realizing why the landlord had asked him. He was covered in mud from the road and so badly frayed from the travelling and still knotted up from his emotional breakdown that he had to confess he was hardly a good example of stringdom. He sniffed miserably and replied. "No. I’m a fray’d knot." Everyone in the bar gave a sigh of relief and the landlord smiled. "Oh, in that case, what can I get you, Sir." er… boom boom.
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Filed under: Fight Loneliness
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