Originally posted by jean
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I can't laugh at that - I used to have exactly the same problem with
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Erm... someone's going to have to explain that to non-Welsh speaking thickos like probably the majority on this forum. Is Llwybr Welsh for the exchange rate that stockbroker bloke got found guilty for fixing yesterday, or summink? -
Not a joke, Calibs, I was just stating a fact.Originally posted by Caliban View Post
There's not much in Crianlarich, but it is on signposts from all parts of Scotland.
Rest and be Thankful is a montain passPacta sunt servanda !!!Comment
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A company chairman was given a ticket for a performance of Schubert's Unfinished Symphony. Since he was unable to go, he passed the invitation to the company's Quality Assurance Manager.
The next morning, the chairman asked him how he enjoyed it and, instead of a few plausible observations, he was handed a memorandum:
1. For a considerable period, the oboe players had nothing to do. Their number should be reduced, and their work spread over the whole orchestra, thus avoiding peaks of inactivity.
2. All twelve violins were playing identical notes. This seems unnecessary duplicative, and the staff of this section should be drastically cut. If a large volume of sound is really required, this could be obtained through the use of an amplifier.
3. Much effort was involved in playing the demi-semiquavers. This seems an excessive refinement, and it is recommended that all notes should be rounded up to the nearest semiquaver. If this were done, it would be possible to use trainees instead of craftsmen.
4. No useful purpose is served by repeating with horns the passage that has already been handled by the strings. If all such redundant passages were eliminated, the concert could be reduced from two hours to twenty minutes.
In light of the above, one can only conclude that had Schubert given proper attention to these matters, he probably would have had the time to finish his symphony!Comment
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HE MAD REGALIST (warning long joke,might not be worth the effort)
Last week I was leaving my favorite restaurant, the Crumb & Horn, near the Nickel Haus at the Harnon Court. I was admiring my new, Italian-made, Gonzaga Green mountain bike (on which I chitarrone quite well). Then I heard, faintly at first, someone calling my name (it was very hard to hear, but then you can missa lot of things because of the traffic and Busnois). I turned toward the voice and spotted none other than John Eliot (the Gardener), limping through the traffic toward me like he had just gotten a HIP implant.
"Be careful!" I said as an auto swerved around him. "I Wilbye there soon."
When I got to him, JEG didn't look well. "I was almost run over. I wonder if the driver of that Carissimi? But...but....OCKEGHEM!!"
"Bless you," I said.
"Sorry," was the reply. "I've had this contrefactum for days, and am only now re-Couperin. I got it from June Fillette, I'm Certon of that. And she has such a virginal face, too. I had hoped to get her into the sack-but that's not why I wanted to talk with you."
"What's the trouble then?" I asked.
"Well," said JEG, "I've just now heard the most tremendous rackett coming from the Church, which made my blood curtal. It sounded like someone singing, accompanied by some instrument I've never heard before. It gave me the feeling that it came from another world, so when I saw you, I thought that the two of us together could Handel whatever we find there."
"Thanks a lot, I was afraid you'd say that," I sighed.
As we approached the Church, (the Holy Madonna of Lower Yonkers, or as we all knew it, the Holy M.O.L.Y.), I became aware of a most unique music coming from inside. It literally chilled me down to my organum. I recognized that voice immediately! Dropping my bike, I ran to the church doors, pushed them open, ran up the balcony to the upper Tear, and found....The Infamous Herr Dr. Weghe! I immediately knew it was him from his most un-Rooley hair and the Perotin trousers he wore, as he stroked a strange little instrument that gave a most reedy timbre. And his Parrott-like singing voice combined with it in an absolutely diabolical fashion.
"Aha, we meet again, Doctor!" I exclaimed. "What is that instrument, and why are you here playing it?"
"My dear friend, it's a regal," the Doctor replied. "And since I Emma virtuoso, I will perform on it to pay my arrears and earn great acclaim and wealth. Here, let Machaut you how it works." But as he tried to Sheppard me over to the regal, I pulled my hand away. "Tallis what you will, Doctor, but I know better," I said. "It's really Pärt of your scheme to take over the World and eventually make everybody listen to accordion Music, isn't it?"
"You are much less of a Dunstable type than I would have imagined, sir," the Doctor replied. "But I Dufay you or anyone else to stop me!"
"Rommelpot! You're mad. Maybe I can't stop you," I retorted, "But the President of our early music society is Joe Skan, whom we call Da Prez. He'll make sure that nobody will Sweelinck your story. If what you do does P.A.N. out, you could earn a lot of lute. But if it doesn't, there will be no Haydn from us, because we can always Telemann in a lot O'Dette who's running from the Savall Renaissance Music for Posterity Society!"
"I would Figueras much," came the reply....
As we left the church, John Eliot and I were frustrated to say the least. Herr Weghe had made perfect LeClair his intentions. Dessus not what we had expected. "Canti be stopped?" John wondered. We knew of the hypnotic allure of his regal, and how it would be twelve short steps to forcing accordion music on everybody. "Let's go find our friend Mark Carpenter. He'll know how to proceed," I suggested just as the music we had heard in the church started again, but this time played on an accordion, and coming from the street. Then I saw Herr Weghe, playing as if he had no Kiehr in the world.
This music was definitely French Baroque, but with a strange familiar Latin beat underneath (dum, da-da-da dum, dum...). "That's some mean tone," John commented. Eventually, I was able to Pickett out as the infamous "Lully-Bolero". It made my head hurt to hear it, but I had no Asperen with me. Even worse, the effect it had on others made my hair Kerll. I watched as everyone on the street, including the neighborhood matriarchs Mrss. Rin and Ray (known to all as "Ma" Rin and "Ma" Ray) start dancing to the music's hypnotic beat. Not wanting to have a bransle on my hands, I shouted at Weghe, but instead of stopping his accordion, I watched him Huggett to his body as he ran down the sidewalk faster than a Byrd on the wing. Leaving John Eliot behind, I began to chase Herr Weghe.
Past the Cash 'n' Caurroy, over the Hill Yard and the Guarneri Bridge, through the Harnon Court we ran. Passing the Monument for the Dead of the Vibrato Wars, he eluded me by ducking into the Arbeauretum. I was nearly Besard myself when I spied a familiar figure, cigar sticking out of his mouth, in a rumpled, un-Rooley trenchcoat while Leonin on a streetpost. It was Lieutenant Sainte-Colombo, of the Visse Squad! "Can you help?" I called out. "You got it, Macque" he said, closing in behind me.
We entered the Arbeauretum, but our Hunt quickly Graun to a halt. Suddenly, we heard growling and barking ahead. Running through a stand of Bachswood trees, we found Herr Weghe cornered, Haydn his face from a stocky dog whose face and body were incredibly wrinkled. It Baird its teeth at Weghe as if it wanted to Goebel him up. I then noticed good ol' Mark Carpenter holding back the dog, which was evidently his. Soon, John Eliot and his friend June Fillette rode up on John's Italian motor scooter (John was famous for using olive oil in its crankcase, so it was naturally called the Vespa Della Beate Extra Vergine). "I wanted to find June to help on the chase," he explained. "I didn't know where she was, so I called and luckily was able to ricercar phone."
As Lt. Sainte-Colombo put on the handcuffs, Herr Weghe tried to explain. "Curses! I never Minter hurt anyone, but you people did Muffat for me--I just wanted to make some lute, that's all."
"Bull!" I said. "You may have taken a Schein to the money, but you fagott that regaling in public viol-ates the Lawes of good taste. And what's Morley, your plan for world dominants never diminished. I saw Eustache that accordion in your trousers when I chased you. Lawrence Weelkes you're not! You should Frye for this, but we'll have to be satisfied to Locke you up for good."
Later, we all met at the tavern owned by Joe Skan for ice-cold bottles of Heinichen and Watkins Ale. ["Da Prez" had built an artificial stream running through the place that turned a moaning mill water wheel, hence the tavern's name: Mill o' Regrets].
"Hautbois the way," Lt. Sainte-Colombo asked me, "How did you Tye Herr Weghe's dastardly plan to the music?"
"It wasn't easy," I replied. "I don't want tabor you with the de tailles, but I knew things weren't Picchi keen when John Eliot told me about the music he heard. I thought he'd went Encina ghost! But the 'Lully-Bolero' gave it all away. Still, I Otter give credit to you Mark, and your remarkable dog. Where did you get her?"
"Oh, you mean Ti-Yay," said Mark with a smile. "These Chinese Shar-Pei dogs are way too expensive for me to have Bott one myself. But my Aunt Montserrat won her in a raffle and gave the dog to me..."
Thus it was that Herr Weghe and his plans to conquer the world were thwarted, not least by Mark's Aunt-Won Shar-Pei Ti-Yay...Comment
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'Phew!
Nice on in today's Times Diary - Alan Yentob "seems to be as popular with his colleagues [at the BBC] as a dentist in a lion enclosure"
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A plaque on a bench was photographed and sent to Robin Page (Telegraph "Country Diary" columnist). It read:
"In memory of Roger Bucklesby who hated this park and everyone in it".
Sounds like a nice guy.Comment
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Jean: surely you should have picked up on the lack of punctuation and the capital W?Originally posted by jean View Post
I keep hitting the Escape key, but I'm still here!Comment
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I just thought this one up while shopping in St Sprees this morning:
What did the cheese biscuit say to the other cheese biscuit?
"You've got to be crackers to be on sale here".
Well, the woman filling the shelves thought it worth a smile...
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The only cow in a small town in Ireland stopped giving milk. Then the town folk found they could buy a cow in Scotland quite cheaply. So, they brought the cow over from Scotland.
It was absolutely wonderful, it produced lots of milk every day and everyone was happy.
They bought a bull to mate with the cow to get more cows, so they'd never have to worry about their milk supply again. They put the bull in the pasture with the cow but whenever the bull tried to mount the cow, the cow would move away. No matter what approach the bull tried, the cow would move away from the bull, and he was never able to do the deed.
The people were very upset and decided to go to the Vet, who was very wise, tell him what was happening and ask his advice.
"Whenever the bull tries to mount our cow, she moves away. If he approaches from the back, she moves forward. When he approaches her from the front, she backs off. If he attempts it from the one side, she walks away to the other side."
The Vet rubbed his chin thoughtfully and pondered this before asking, "Did you, by any chance, buy this cow in Scotland?"
The people were dumbfounded, since no one had ever mentioned that they had brought the cow over from Scotland.
"You are truly a wise Vet," they said. "How did you know we got the cow from Scotland?
The Vet replied with a distant look in his eye:
"The wife's from Scotland "
I keep hitting the Escape key, but I'm still here!Comment
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... as she backed nervously awayOriginally posted by Serial_Apologist View Post
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
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Maybe two of these brought the slightest of smiles to my face. They're too much in the vain of the vine, as in the current comedy man of the moment, Tim Vine. Witty lines but which achieve a laugh or a chortle that simply does not sustain.
I'm still laughing at jokes I heard thirty or forty years ago, but this lot?? I don't quite think they're keepers.Comment
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Weird sense of humour those grauniad people have.Originally posted by Stillhomewardbound View Post
If those are the best jokes then most of the people involved should stick to the day job.Comment
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Failed to do even that with me. Tim Vine does at least make me laugh...Originally posted by Stillhomewardbound View PostComment
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