BONFIRE NIGHT.

BONFIRE NIGHT.

I really love Bonfire Night; It’s a great way to start Christmas.

Growing up in Northern Ireland during the 1970s and 80, fireworks were illegal, so you can imagine how strange it seemed to me when I moved to England and saw your tradition of giving children little bombs to hold.

The Fire Brigade’s website has warnings about fire, and fireworks.
I can vouch for the dangers of Bonfires, as I had an embarrassing incident last year when I was shouted at for standing too close to the fire.
Boy was my face red.

The Fire Brigade advises that you should never return to a firework that has failed to go off.
Instead leave it there for an unsuspecting dog walker to find the next day.

Tragically every year people suffer burns on Bonfire Night.
The Fire Brigade’s website advises that all burns victims should be kept together and not allowed to get separated.
This is how the worlds first Siamese Twins were created.
Ironically the website has this advice as a sticky.

The website also advises that you always light fireworks at arms length, because you don’t want a rocket that can achieve heights of 350 feet going off any closer than arms length.

The 5th November is one of the busiest nights of the year for the fire service, and the crews are stretched to breaking point.
This year they have employed male strippers to attend false alarms.

If you are carrying fireworks in your trouser pockets and they catch a spark and go off, well that is just god’s way of telling you that you are an idiot and to stop you from being able to reproduce.
If you can’t be trusted with a firework, you can’t be trusted with a child.

Breaking News this week of a senior Tory from the Thatcher era being accused of heading a paedophile ring.
I hope that it turns out to be Thatcher.
I always suspected that she got her power by drinking blood, and bathing in the tears of abused children.
I hope she is spinning in her coffin with rage.
(I know she is not dead, I mean the coffin she sleeps in).
I actually don’t want Thatcher to die.
I hope she lives forever, just getting frailer and more shriveled.
Put on display outside a Northern dole office and only sustained by the nutrients she gets out of the spittle of passing Yorkshire Miners.

LAST WEEKS JOKES AND TWEETS.

Waterboarding was invented by a competitive dad trying to organize a game of “Dunking for apples”.

My neighbours, Mr. & Mrs. Kowalski have gotten divorced.
They tried marriage counseling, but were still Poles apart.

Aerosol spray paint cans are to be banned as they contribute to global warning.
So for graffiti artists the writing is on the wall.

I think that Pro Life supporters should:
A. Fuck off.
B. Wise up.
C. Catch a grip.
I’m Pro Choice.

I saw a comedian doing very complex, intricate jokes.
He was a fiddly kidder.

I love the smell of Birmingham’s Broad St in the evening…
Smells like Vajazzles to me.
(If you don’t know what a Vajazzle smells like, its burnt hair, glue, and desperation).

They cancelled the New York Marathon when they realized that it was going to have to be a triathlon.

First rule of Kiddie Fiddler Club is…
Do a lot of charity work.

Violinist Nigel Kennedy was a child prodigy.
Yet another celebrity kiddie fiddler!

Ground Hog Day is on TV.
It’s a repeat.

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life.
Life, and crowded Tube trains, racist taxi drivers, and over priced coffee.

Friar Tuck would sit in Sherwood Forest for hours discussing philosophy and meditating.
He was a deep fat friar.

Every dog has their day.
Every dogger has their night.

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