The Kintyre Forum

John O'Reilly hoisted his beer and said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, between the legs of me wife!" That won him the top prize at the pub for the best toast of the night! He went home and told his wife, Mary, "I won the prize for the best toast of the night." She said, "Aye, did ye now. And what was your toast?" John said, "Here's to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife." "Oh, that is very nice indeed, John!" Mary said. The next day, Mary ran into one of John's drinking buddies on the street corner. The man chuckled leeringly and said, "John won the prize the other night at the pub with a toast about you, Mary." She said, "Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised meself. You know, he's only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come."



Message 2 - posted by 007mallrat, 5 Hours Ago

Sean Connery was interviewed by Michael Parkinson, and
bragged that despite his seventy-two years of age, he
could still have sex three times a night.

Lulu, who was also a guest, looked intrigued.

After the show, Lulu said, "Sean, if Ah 'm no bein
too forward, Ah'd love tae hae sex wi an aulder man,
Let's go back tae mah place."

So they go back to her place and have great sex.
Afterwards, Sean says,

"If you think that wash good, let me shleep for half
an hour, and we can have even better shex. But while
I'm shleeping, hold ma bawlsh in your left hand and my
wullie in your right hand."

Lulu looks a bit perplexed, but agrees anyway.

Sean sleeps for half an hour, awakens, and they have
even better sex.

Then Sean says, "Lulu, that wash wonderful, but if
you let me shleep for an hour, we can have the besht
shex yet. But again, hold my bawlsh in your left hand,
and my wullie in your right hand."

Lulu is now used to the routine and complies. The
results are mind blowing.

Once it's all over, and the cigarettes are lit, Lulu
asks "

Sean, tell me, dis mah haudin yer bawls in mah left
hand and yer wullie in mah right stimulate ye while
ye're sleepin? "

Sean replies,

" No, but the lasht time I shlept with a Glashwegian,
she shtole ma wallet."

pr

A depressed young woman was so desperate that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the ocean. When she went down to the docks, a handsome young sailor noticed her tears and took pity on her. "Look, you've got a lot to live for." he said. "I'm off to America in the morning, and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I'll take good care of you and bring you food every day." Moving closer, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and added, "I'll keep you happy, and you'll keep me happy." The girl nodded. After all, what did she have to lose? That night, the sailor brought her aboard and hid her in a life-boat. From then on, every night he brought her three sandwiches and a piece of fruit, and they made passionate love until dawn. Three weeks later, during a routine search, she was discovered by the captain. "What are you doing here?" the Captain asked. "I have an arrangement with one of the sailors," she explained, "He's taking me to America, and he's using me every night."
"He certainly is," said the Captain. "This is the Dover-Calais ferry."

Think I prefer this wan

There was a young man that was studying to be a ventriloquist walking along one day, when he noticed an old Indian man sitting in front of his little store. The old man had his dog laying by his chair, a horse tied to a post nearby, and a sheep in a pen. The young man thought to himself that he would have a little fun with the old man so he walked up to him and asked if he cared if he talked to his dog.

The old man replied "Umm go ahead dog not talk". So the young man went over near the dog and to the Indians amazement seemed to be carrying on a conversation about how bad the Indian treated his dog, bad food, no exercise, etc. So the young man turned to the Indian and asked if it would be alright to talk to his horse. The Indian replied, "Umm go ahead horse not talk."

Again the young man went near the horse and seemed to be carrying on a conversation with the horse about how his owner mistreated him, tied to a post all day, bad food, etc. This time as the young man turned to the Indian man whose eyes were bulging in amazement, the Indian man quickly told him: "Don't talk to sheep - sheep tell lies!"

bubbly

A man staggers into an emergency room with a concussion, multiple bruises, two black eyes and a five iron wrapped around his throat.

Naturally, the doctor asks him what happened.

"Well, it was like this,"said the man. "I was having a quiet round of golf with my wife, when at a difficult hole, we both sliced our balls into a pasture of cows. We went to look for them and while I was rooting around I noticed one of the cows had something white at its rear end. I walked over, lifted up the tail and sure enough there was a golf ball with my wife's monogram on it stuck right in the middle of the cow's butt. That's when I made a mistake."

"What did you do?" asked the doctor.

"Well, I lifted the cow's tail and yelled to my wife, 'Hey, this looks like yours!' I don't remember anything after that."

Was Scotland playing rugby at the weekend, as someone sent me this???


Ye come up here tae paradise, tae beat us at your game,
Aw’wind and p*ss and full o’ sh it, Yer aw the bloody same.

Ye caw yersels World champions, the nations most elite,
But Scotland are the greatest noo, cos Yuv just been f'n ‘beat.

A game that wis invented, fur English gentlemen,
No Highland Jocks wae tartan frocks, well bluddy think again.

A baw that’s shapit like an egg, it’s jist a stupit farse,
Bit a suppose it makes it easier, tae ram right up yer ar*e.

So git back home an lick yer wounds, yer a bunch o stupit fools,
It’s time fur you tae cheat again, and change the f'n, rules.

Rugby,fitba, cricket tae, yer jist a shower o chancers,
Stick tae whit ye dae the best, you Morris effing dancers!

that's great bochan mor i wish I could write poetry like that

Jeanette wrote:that's great bochan mor i wish I could write poetry like that

Aye Jeanette, belive you me, so do I!

Hae a daecent dram an a guid block o Bochan Cheese an ye WID !

Bitter End wrote:Hae a daecent dram an a guid block o Bochan Cheese an ye WID !

Och Bitter End, don't be mentioning the Bochan Cheese. It'll only put me in the notion, and god knows what kind of trouble that will bring on me. I'd be much safer wae the old (Regurgitated milk) goat's cheese, as the effects would put any other ideas out of ma heid, probably saving me from the rolling pin further down the line.

Never mind, much more daylight, and JDCarra will be up the Forestry Road wae his new tripod, taking photos of the first tadpoles the year. I wonder how the spawn's holding out wae all this cold weather?

Do you mind when nearly every hoose in the village had a jeely jar full of the wee blighters. Hell of a smell when the water went stagnant. Didn't do the old amphibians any good either, as more often or not, they were flushed on their merry way to Portrigh whilst you were at school. The story was that they all died when a wasp fell into the jar and stung them. To think that I believed that nonsense, wae no a wasp to be seen at that time of year. A bee maybe!

Fearful snow to the North, and they're saying it could be heading this way tomorrow. We'll all need to make an excuse to get in to yarn wae Morenish, and warm 'The hole of our bodies' around his sublime brazier. There's a man who knows a bit about forward planning..... eh whit?

As long as were gone by 5pm when his Mrs comes in from the fields, we should be right enough. Chap on his door about 11.30, he'll be getting up about then, and jeest breenge straight in wae a Fermers Weekly and muttering something about Massey Ferguson. I'm telling you, it works every time and if you ask him before he gets a chance to get his wits aboot him, hel'll make you a cup of tea wae one of Mrs Morenish's treacle scones and home churned butter.

I just don't know where she gets the time, but apparently he thoughtfully sets her alarm for 4.30am, summer or winter. .... What a man!

Bochan Mor wrote:fearful snow to the North, and they're saying it could be heading this way tomorrow. We'll all need to make an excuse to get in to yarn wae Morenish, and warm 'The hole of our bodies' around his sublime brazier. There's a man who knows a bit about forward planning..... eh whit?

Och my freen they've got you as well. They've turned you intae Peter Sloss.

Ach I suppose the weather is the only is the only safe subject on here. If you get it wrang what the hell, the BBC dae it all the time.

Morenish knows all aboot forward planning right enough, the size of yon logs going in the furnace are a drop in the ocean.

Nights like this will mean full grown spruce tae keep the burner going 'till he gets oot his kip aboot elevenish. Mind you what a waste heating the sky like that. Oh well when you see what these colonials add tae the night sky in fossil fuel I don't suppose a wee harmless soul in Carradale stopping his burning practices will slow doon oor demise tae extinction.

Talking aboot "the hole in oor bodies" I heard that someone in the toon has a W tatooed on each buttock. I won't mention any names or I'll lose my feathers again but it certainly gives a new meaning tae the wow factor.

Hope it snows so that your forecast is right.

bubbly

bubbly jock wrote:

Bochan Mor wrote:fearful snow to the North, and they're saying it could be heading this way tomorrow. We'll all need to make an excuse to get in to yarn wae Morenish, and warm 'The hole of our bodies' around his sublime brazier. There's a man who knows a bit about forward planning..... eh whit?

Och my freen they've got you as well. They've turned you intae Spleetirin Dross.

Ach I suppose the weather is the only safe subject on here.
bubbly

Here bubbly, is it any wonder that you canna trust the weather these days? You've already mentioned the BBC, but what about ITV? Their weather is sponsored by a bunch of 'Fly B's'.

You'd do a lot worse than to go and ask auld Scraw for a long range fermer's forecast. I'm lead to believe that the soil men pluck a handfull of feathers from a lame duck then drop them from the hayloft towards two buckets, one filled with 'Unifarm' multigrade oil and the other with warm, freshly expressed coos milk. During periods of high pressure, the bulk of the feathers will land on the milk, but when a depression moves in, they'll head for the viscos lubricant.

Well that was life for the older generation of fermers. Nowadays they have cassette players and CB radios in their air-conditioned tractor cabs, electric starting handles and milking machines. Then there is the intrepid Morenish, who doesn't give two 'Hoots' about the weather, as it's summer 365 days a year in his not so green house!

Transport news!

England supporters awaiting the arrival of the 'Grand slam express'
are
advised that due to a points failure and subsequent derailment at
Murrayfield, the 18.12 from Edinburgh has been cancelled. Further bad
news as the A1 south has been blocked by a large number of wheel less
chariots.
Police advise that any owner of a vehicle unable to swing low, should
call Scottish emergency services on 0900-GETITUPYEEZ, and await the
arrival of someone coming for to carry them home. Kind locals are
believed to be keeping distressed England supporters supplied with
large
amounts of humble pie, although sour grapes are available if necessary.

.................

Iron Brew, you are either Malky in disguise or this is de ja vu... He just posted that one a few days ago