The Sporting Laugh

She who prays daily and Fakey are at loggerheads again over Grandson No. 2’s Xmas prezzie. She wants to get him memebrship of the Pier Angling Club, but he will have to be accompanied by a responsible adult. Well! we all know that leaves Fakey out, but she wants him to meet others with a similar interwst and learn from them.

Where Pier Fishing is concerned Fakey says ” Bring him up right and do what he did whenever he went pier fishing……………dont’ bother with rods. reels and bait………….just go strairght in the BAR until it closes”

You still go home with no edible fish and have always got the chance of Free B&B for the night in the Nick

Good old Wm. Hill have lost Fakey’s custom and he is now betting with Ladbrokes. Their mistake and to sartisfy Honour Fakey asked for a 50 quid donation to H4H. Hills refused…………….Hills lost a customer, simple as that

I pray that Johnno’s picked a team to score a good few tries
And when he talks about them afterwards
He won’t tell us no lies.

God bless Mummy, God bless Daddy, Frankie Dettori, AP McCoy, Jonjo O’Neill and the Channel4Racing Team

 Fakey don’t think that the way forward for England is to be slated by all the purists. Sniping at individuals, the coaching team or the manager for that matter will change nothing. All of these things come round and go round. Wales are just coming out of the gloom after their 25 years of dominance of the home teams. For those of us old enough to remember English rugby pre Beaumont there is lots to ponder about history possibly repeating itself (someone else mentioned this last year). History leans heavily to supporting the fact that England need a very strong Captain. A Field Marshall, good enough himself to have respect and strong enough on the field to boolivk whare bollickings are due and to praise the good. Whether Borthwick is that man is up for individual assessment. Personally I don’t think he has the stature or the makings of a rugby giant. England have some undeniably very good and potentially talented players. With the right mix and the right Captain they will come back, but experience on the park is what we are lacking at the moment

http://www.therugbyblog.co.uk/category/feature-articles

Dame Vera Has expressed total  dismay that there is no memorable song for the boys and girls serving in Afghanistan. What do you think of this, that I knocked up this morning, rather than do all the jobs She who prays daily told me to????

To the tune of “There is nothing like a dame”

We is Paras, Guards and riflemen,

We got sunshine sh*te and sand,

We got bullets, guns and dynamite, and a great big bloody band,

We get messages from Gordon, and other people too

We got laptops for our social life and emailed cards from you,

What ain’t we got?

A proper bloody loo.

We get Korma, we get Rogan Josh and loads of instant rice

We get chutney by the bucket load, Oh! yes it’s very nice

We get Bhajis full of onions and some samosas too

We get hot madras in parcels, all the way from Canning Town.

Stamped with the approval of good old Gordon Brown,

On Friday’s if we’re lucky

There’s a plate of Vindaloo

What ain’t we got?

A proper bloody loo.

We got nowhere to hang a roll of three ply tissue

All we got…………. is regulat…ion issue

There is nothing like a loo,

Nothing in the world

Gordon, There’s just one thing we want from you

That’s a proper….. bloody loo

A brick built outhouse ain’t the same

Like nothing in the world

For a fella or dame too

There ain’t nothing you can name

That is anything like a loo

There is absolutely nothing you can view

That is anything…………… like a loo.

Nothing Feels like a loo

And nothing looks like a loo

Nothing sounds like a loo

There can be drinks for a loo

And other matter too,

No! There ain’t anything wrong.

With any dame or para here

That can’t be cured by sitting ‘em on

A warm and comfy…….. clean and classy

Bleach drenched  bloody…Kh…..azi

© Copyright thesportinglaugh.com

That is hilarious and written with knowledge. J  One thing my brother said he missed the most while on tour….. No, it wasn’t his family it was the comfort of a steadily heated toilet room with a good old fashioned toilet, Fluffy toilet mat and an up to date paper! J

 Katie

I am pissed off beyond belief, and bloody furious at the type of society that post war Britain has created for itself. Well! Specifically I am furious at British management, or should I say a total lack of it, right from the highest at Westminster down to the lesser, even more spurious prats that run industry, our banks and commerce’s.

In short they could not run or organize a piss up in a brewery with the bloody barrels open.

Once managers managed from the front. They could do any job that their staff could do and if they were worth their salt they could do it better than their staff if necessary. They had foresight, balls, leadership skills and common sense. They also had knowledge

Today the majority have not even got foreskins, let alone foresight, think their balls are where their brains are kept, have no interpersonal skills, let alone leadership, most couldn’t lead a bull to a cow and cannot even spell common sense. That has been replaced with a mental sense that enquires how best to phuk something up first, in order to pour lavish praise upon themselves for putting right something that should never have gone phukin’ wrong in the first place.

They set budgets tighter than nuns’ sexual orifices, which means that they can never have sufficient staff to cope properly with workloads. Staff, who can then go home tired but satisfied that they have done a fair days work for a fair days pay. No! Far better to absolutely knacker the buggers to point of burn out, because they can always rely upon the prats in Westminster to import some other poor buggers, many former Eastern Bloc, who are quite happy to replace, even if it does mean that they will work under conditions similar to the Victorian workhouse.

Consequently their staff cannot easily book holiday with a feeling feel that they deserve it and that management are happy for them to rejuvenate, return refreshed and able to carry out their duties more efficiently. Because they are so full of their own self importance they cannot have contingency plans, which in turn means they have to rely heavily upon the dedication, professionalism and conscientiousness of their staff.

Nowhere is all of this more prevalent than in our hospitals and airports

If perchance, whilst proceeding in an east/west or west/ east direction for that matter, along ****** Road ******** you do happen to notice a taxi driver hanging from the telephone wires with a newly purchased garden rake dangling from his bottle I would like to take this opportunity of saving all of you the trouble of making an hour long programme concerning the circumstances that led to his untimely, but much deserved early and, albeit, ultimate and eventual demise.

With the melodious tones of Eartha Kitt singing Diamonds are Forever on the wireless I was proceeding to go one better than Roger Moore, Sean Connery and Peirse Brosnan with a whole bevy of beauties, in my dreams.

At approximately 0100hrs my attentions were diverted from the onerous task of giving Honor Blackman one, by the dog barking and a noise from outside. Awaking quickly I found the commotion to be a voice from the darkness asking if I wanted a moonlit tour of the Town by taxi.

A question, I think you will agree, that any red blooded male would find offensive, given the circumstances and I lost my temper with him. He died happy as my polite response was along the lines of “No! And thanks a ph million”

I am also able to save the expense of a pathologists report and can asssure you that he died from a single and accurate blow from the rake handle being inserted into his rectum with great force causing asphyxiation and several perforations to his lower bowel. Death would have been most unpleasant and far from instant as he was stil shouting “get me down, get me down” when I hung him on the telephone cable by his balls