A man who runs behind a Kombi will get exhausted But man who runs in front of a Kombi will get tired I couldn’t work out how to fasten my seatbelt …. then it clicked
There's the story of the man caught, by a National Park ranger, sitting at a make-shift campfire, and to the ranger's horror, eating a wedge tailed eagle. The man is consequently arrested for the crime. On the day of his trial, the conversation went something like this: JUDGE: "Do you know that killing and eating a wedge tailed eagle in a National Park is an offense?" MAN: "Yes I do. But if you let me argue my case, I'll explain what happened." JUDGE: "Proceed." MAN: "I got lost in the bush. I hadn't had anything to eat for two weeks. I was so hungry. Next thing I see is a wedge tailed eagle swooping down at the lake for some fish. I knew that if I followed the eagle I could maybe steal his fish. I caught up with the eagle who lighted upon a tree stump to eat the fish. I threw a stone toward it hoping he would drop the fish and fly away. Unfortunately, in my weakened condition, my aim was off, and the rock hit the eagle squarely on his poor little head, and killed it. I thought long and hard about what had happened, but figured that since I killed it I might as well eat it since it would be more disgraceful to let it rot on the ground." JUDGE: "The court will take a recess while we analyze your testimony." Fifteen minutes goes by and the judge returns. JUDGE: "Due to the extreme circumstance you were under and because you didn't intend to kill the eagle, the court will dismiss the charges." The judge then leans over the bench and whispers: "Look, I believed your story about it being a one-off accident. So, if you don't mind my asking, what does a wedge tailed eagle taste like?" MAN: "Well your honour, it is hard to explain. The best I can describe it is somewhere between a Koala Bear and a Southern Boobook Owl."
There's the story of the ventriloquist performing with his dummy on his lap. He’s telling a dumb blonde joke when a young platinum-haired beauty jumps to her feet. “What gives you the right to stereotype blondes that way?” she demands. “What does hair color have to do with my worth as a human being?” Flustered, the ventriloquist begins to stammer out an apology. "Yes, yes, you're quite right, so ..." “You keep out of this!” she yells. “I’m talking to that little jerk on your knee."
As As a former high school teacher l can confirm that the blonde girls were ditzier. I'll be crucified for saying it but it's true. Hair colour in boys didn't set them apart ... there must be something else with boys. Black haired girls were dreamy, Red fiery (ofc) and Brown was just right.
I'll have to tell that one to Lynne . A blonde with an Honours Degree in Science and with 40 years industry experience. Although, these days, to be honest, her hairdresser keeps it blonde - or purple often
