Jesus Wants You!
A Friend In Need!
‘Til Death Us Do Part!
A Fitting Tale.
Knickers in a Twist!
The Fallen Apprentice.
One Fright Stand.
Facing the Facts.
‘Stuck’ For Words!
A Valued Friend!
What Goes Around.
A Winter’s Snail!
All The Fun Of The Fairy Tale (Personalised Joke).
A Grave Mistake.
Dicing with Death.
Put Up or Shut Up!
In a small village, quite close to the sea
resided a loving (and close) family.
A mother, a father and much-treasured son -
not yet ‘flown the nest’; it was time to move on.
The son started courting a lass known as Moll.
His father agreed “She’s a bit of a doll!”
And soon (as he’d got to that point in his life)
the son rather fancied young Moll, as his wife.
He went to his father, to talk it all through;
seeking advice on the best thing to do.
And, whilst reminiscing on weddings they’d had
the father ‘harped-back’ to when he was a lad.
But then ‘The Past’ caught him. How could he forget?
Of a lassie (the ‘double’ of Molly), he’d met.
Sun, sex and scrumpy may ‘highten the senses’
but (twenty years on) can present consequences!
In villages, tiny (with lives, thus entwined),
encounters like these were so easy to find.
Family genes in unorthodox mixes.
Shared DNA, gummy smiles and ‘high sixes’!
His son and new daughter, he’d now have to part.
But nothing deceitful (he hadn’t the heart).
Deciding one night, with a father – son chat,
he aimed to ‘come clean’ and then ‘that would be that’.
He, stood in the parlour, confronting his ‘mess’.
Said “Look, Son, there’s something I need to confess.
You can’t marry Moll – it’s a total ‘no-go’.
As she’s your half-sister (your mum doesn’t know!)”
The son, head in hands, at the ‘bombshell’ received,
spat, “Dad I feel angry, upset and deceived.
I will call things off but I’ll not say a word
as I think it would devastate Mum, if she heard.”
A year or so later, the lad found ‘another’.
Who, one night at dinner met Father and Mother.
The father near-choked on his meat (you could tell!)
He’d ‘knocked-up’ the new girlfriend’s mother as well.
So ‘Daddy’, again took his son to one side.
“I’m ashamed” he said meekly, “I’ve lost any pride.
You can’t keep her, Son – as it’s pure ‘deja-vu’.
I once knew her mum - and I ‘roger-ed’ her, too!”
Once more, the appeal, to the Son from his Dad.
“Don’t tell your mum – it’ll make her go mad.”
The son was aghast with his "Pop's propagation".
“You’re not just my Dad – you’re the ‘birth of a nation’!”
Now, Mum (as the latest was ‘kicked into touch’)
thought “Maybe it’s girls that he doesn’t like, much.”
She said “Listen Son, if you’ve something to say,
I really don’t mind if you tell me, you’re gay.”
“Mother!” he gasped, “Is this one of your jokes?”
There’s no way, I’d ever be fancying blokes!
The reason I finished with both of these ‘wowsers’
was, Dad couldn’t keep what he’d got in his trousers.
He told me in private, he’s fathered them both
and begged me to keep his dark secret (on oath).
So, Mum, be assured that I’m totally ‘straight’
and I still miss young Molly - my very first date.”
The truth now revealed; Mother smiled, “That’s okay.
Go on, fill your boots, son. It’s your lucky day!
Remember ‘Big Frankie’; that hunk of a lad?
Well, he’s your real father - but don’t tell your Dad!”
One Fright Stand!
‘Twas in a nightclub, late,
where Dan was scouting for a date
(like many singles; out for ‘you-know-what’).
When flashing disco lights
revealed a pair of fishnet tights
and the blonde that they enmeshed looked pretty hot!
She strutted, ‘cool as ice’,
and cocked one eye at Dan, so nice.
He cocked one back, to hold her gaze (he tried).
And, this interaction
sparked a mutual attraction -
staring at each other - both ‘cock-eyed’.
She asked “You been before?
I’ve never seen you on the floor.”
Dan smirked at her, “I rarely dance, my dear.”
She smiled “Do you like Mambo,
Rumba, Salsa or Tango?”
“No.” he quipped “I, mainly stick to beer!”
“I dance to Latin sounds”
she cooed “instead of drinking rounds.
That sexy rhythm moves me; feels so fine.
In fact this music, playing,
turns me on - my hips start swaying.”
“Well, then” ventured Dan “your place or mine?”
She smiled “Let’s do my place”
and his pulse began to race
(as a cheeky ‘Cha-Cha-Cha’ was being played).
So they went back, up to her flat
for ‘a bit of this and that’
“and, maybe, of the ‘other’.”, Danny prayed !
She tempted him “Go through.
‘Arf a mo’, I’ll be with you.
I’m just nipping to the bathroom to prepare.”
So it wasn’t long before
his clothes were heaped upon the floor.
Dan waiting in her bed with ‘lust to share’.
The bathroom door, ajar
he stole glances, from afar,
in reflection, through a mirror by the sink.
Then laid back to watch the show
as she stripped, from head to toe,
‘til, finally she stood there in the ‘pink’.
But, peeping through the door,
rendered more than bargained for.
As the blonde became a ‘baldie’, with no locks.
Wig, dumped upon a chair,
she’d also taken off her ‘pair’.
Bra swinging from door-handle, stuffed with socks.
Then, much to Dan’s surprise,
she turned attention to her eyes,
where long lashes (also fake) were peeled away.
And, showing further class,
she popped one eye out (made of glass)
which she placed within a special plastic tray.
He gasped “That sums things up”
as her dentures found a cup.
“Please, let that be the end of it, I beg.”
But his biggest shock of all
was when, peering up the hall,
he caught her, screwing off her wooden leg.
“That’s it. I’m out of here.”
swore Dan. “No way, she’s getting near.
There’s more of her’s come off than’s staying on!
And I’ll bet her ‘swaying hips’
are titanium, with clips.
So I’d better leave - before she’s fully gone!
Whilst fleeing from the flat,
Danny choked “Thank God for that!”
(oh, so grateful for the ‘early-intervention’).
Wincing, “Sex? -I’m not that brave.”,
he glanced up to see her wave
with a pink prosthetic arm, for his attention!
Calling out to him, below,
she pleaded “Do yer ‘ave to go?”
As she struggled, pulling on her dressing gown.
Then (her normal ‘line’ to men)
she shouted “Don’t yer want it, then?”
“Just unscrew it” Danny scoffed “and chuck it down!”
Gertrude and her boyfriend, Pete,
at last had set a date.
They booked the church and hotel suite
in which to celebrate.
The hen night went with such a swing
(the ‘stripper-man’ was hot!)
The girls teased ‘Gert’ on everything
and laughed about ‘What’s what’!
“Just wait until your wedding night!”
Collectively, they gushed.
“You’ll get ‘what’s what’ from Pete, alright.
‘What’s what’ will have you flushed!”
The ‘stags’ (who also partied, late)
ribbed Pete with taunts, so lewd.
“We’re sure you will appreciate
‘what’s what’ from Gerty-rude!”
And so, next day the couple wed.
Then, later in their room
they stood, pyjama’d, by the bed
– ‘expectant bride and groom’.
“Let’s have it, then.” cooed Gert (all ‘twee’).
“Have what?” quizzed Pete, polite.
“What’s what!” she smiled, “The girls told me,
I’d get ‘what’s what’, tonight.”
“No, you’ve ‘what’s what’ for me!” Pete laughed.
“The lads were very clear.
So, come on, Gertie. Don’t be daft!
Pass ‘what’s what’ over here!”
Finally, acceptance came
which forced them to agree,
“As ‘newbies’ at this marriage game,
‘what’s what’s’ a mystery!”
“I’ll bet” said Peter (with a grin),
“we’ll find it here, somewhere.
Perhaps, they hid ‘what’s what‘, within
this bedroom - for a ‘dare’!”
And, so they searched around the place.
Both starting from the floor.
‘What’s what’ proving hard to trace.
(Not knowing what to look for!)
As Peter stretched to wardrobe top
(whilst balanced on a ledge),
a ‘cord-malfunctioned trouser-drop’
exposed his ‘meat and veg’!
“What’s that?” Gert pointed (quite perplexed).
“What’s what?” asked Pete, ‘mid-climb’.
“Oh Peter!” ‘Gertrude snapped, so vexed.
“You had it all the time!”