more from glasgow:
This bloke is sitting reading his Daily Record newspaper when his wife sneaks up behind him and whacks him on the head with a frying pan. "Whit wis that fur?" he cries.
"That wis for the piece of paper in yir trooser pockets with the name Mary-Rose written oan it," said she.
"Don't be daft," he explains,"two weeks ago when I went to the races Mary-Rose wis the name of one o' the horses I bet on." She seems satisfied and, apologises, and goes off to do work around the house.
Three days later he's again sitting in his chair reading when she nails him again with the frying pan, knocking him out cold. When he comes around, he says, "whit the hell wis that fur?"
"Your horse phoned!" she said.
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what wee islander's would say: want to bluff but don't even know how to bluff.
yeah a talkin nag, just imagine that.
as blahed by the letter b @ September 30, 2005 11:11 AMHeh...that's a good one.
as blahed by "Alice" @ September 30, 2005 10:57 AM