The Kintyre Forum

Couple of quotes gleaned from a book that I received for Christmas.
"I could dance with you until the cows come home.On second thoughts,I`d rather dance with the cows until you come home."

"I am happy with a comfortable sofa,a dog,a book and a woman.I would send the dog off to read the book and then have some fun."

Go! And never darken my towels again.


Is it just me, Landrover, or do you get that feeling too? When you're in a pub and somebody starts talking about Marx, you desperately hope it's Groucho? I never forget a face....

hugh wrote:Is it just me, Landrover, or do you get that feeling too? When you're in a pub and somebody starts talking about Marx, you desperately hope it's Groucho? I never forget a face....

Karl wasn't the funniest brother.

hugh wrote:Go! And never darken my towels again.


Is it just me, Landrover, or do you get that feeling too? When you're in a pub and somebody starts talking about Marx, you desperately hope it's Groucho? I never forget a face....

Too right!"but in your case..."

"She gets her good looks from her father. He's a plastic surgeon."

I've had a perfectly wonderful evening. But this wasn't it.

Plebs

Low, Skid and Bargepole; the missing Marx brothers. And their German sister of low repute, Wo-Sind Meine.

hugh wrote:When you're in a pub and somebody starts talking about Marx, you desperately hope it's Groucho?

A man dies and goes to hell. There he discovers that he has a choice: he can go to Capitalist hell or to Communist hell. Naturally, he wants to compare the two, so he goes over to Capitalist hell. There, outside the door, is the devil, who looks a bit like Bush. “In Capitalist hell,” says Bush, “they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil, and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives.”

“That’s terrible!” gasps the man. He goes over to communist hell, discovers a long line of people waiting to get in. Eventually he gets to the front and there at the door to Communist hell is a little old man who looks a bit like Karl Marx. “In Communist hell,” says Marx impatiently, “they flay you alive, then they boil you in oil, and then they cut you up into small pieces with sharp knives.”

“But… but that’s the same as Capitalist hell!” protests the visitor, “Why such a long queue?”

“Well,” sighs Marx, “Sometimes we’re out of oil, sometimes we don’t have knives, sometimes no hot water…”