We’ve been discussing so many fascinating things in our corner of the blog-sphere recently: elections, gingerness, insanity, Esperanto, rugby, randomness, stammering, girls girls girls, language of all kinds - even Mrs Pouncer’s pussy has been touched upon. I’m very stimulated to write more on these themes, but frankly I’m exhausted. So I reckon it’s time to relax with another Moldavian joke. The same disclaimer applies as for the previous one – so don’t come and burn my village, ok? Mersi.This Moldavian guy goes to live in another village* and wants to fit in with the locals. But when he looks over the fences into his neighbours’ gardens he sees them having sex with their cows. “Hmmm”, he thinks to himself, “I really do want to fit in here so I’d better try”. So he’s on the job and starts shouting so that his neighbours will hear and look at what he’s doing. They indeed look over his fence but then start laughing at him uncontrollably. “What are you laughing at?” he protests, “this is what you all do!” “Yes”, they reply, “but your cow is not very pretty!”
* This would never happen in reality, but let’s say for the sake of argument that his excrement haulage business has gone to the wall owing to an epidemic of bovine constipation in his village and he has to find alternative work elsewhere.
Excellent!
ReplyDeleteReminds me of a Welsh joke I told here:
http://alfanalf.blogspot.com/
2006/10/tony-ble.html
Bless you my boy!
ReplyDeleteAh but the milk here is preferred sour, Bananas. In fact, that might be the only reason that the peasantry holds back on the cow-shagging.
ReplyDeleteThanks Boyo. Nice one, and I do declare that's exactly how Blair - nicknamed "Emily" at school, I believe - would have spoken those words!
Kevin, the Moldavian jokes seem to go down better than I'd thought they would :-)
Young Miss Scarlet, the Mrs Pouncer - Molly Sugden synthesis happened on your blog, and you will have to sort out the mess when she gets back ;-) Where has she gone, anyway? This is most unlike her.
SSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!
ReplyDeleteBy the time she gets back hopefully all of this will be forgotten. Dr Maroon seems to be AWOL as well, but I'm not drawing any conclusions.
Sx
Hmmm.... Anyway, Gadj - it's 'job done' over at Dotterel Towers (the tag, I mean).
ReplyDeleteI'm afraid I simply don't get it, Mr Dilop. And what's all this nonsense about Scarlet being ginger. Surely her name reveals sufficient information?
ReplyDeleteMr Dilop
ReplyDeleteI'm going to have to remember that one!
Sx
Young Scarlet, she's back but she may be feeling too tired and emotional to have engaged with this particular debate. Dr Maroon is for real?
ReplyDeleteWell done, Dot. I could do 6 more - I'm really in the mood now!
Dear Mr Can Bass, I know, we did get rather carried away with the gingerness thing, but names, alas, actually reveal so very little - for instance "Dilop" appears only to mean something only in Kurdish! (Unless you can tell me otherwise...)
It really is terribly disappointing.
ReplyDeleteI go away on a brief cultural visit in order to marvel at the works of our munificent city fathers (such endowments! Such erections!) and on my return I find my good name tied to a hurdle and dragged through the mire. How I could be bracketed with the painted old harridan Mrs Sugden really is beyond reason! And as for linking my absence with that of Dr Maroon. Well! He is taking the cure at a run-down spa in the East Midlands and is always first in line for a high colonic.
So long as you got to see massive erections, Mrs P, then all is well with the world.
ReplyDeleteSx
I have done your tag thing.
ReplyDeleteGadjo ,
ReplyDeleteTherefore if I well understood !?
This mister possesses the only female one to the world ,able to take 400 Kg in a night ?
Evenings it says for him "good night my flea "
And in the morning " upright large cow ! "
Dear Mrs Pouncer, you know, when the cat's away the mice will play; when you're here a certain decorum is maintained but in your absence everything degenerates into a 3rd-rate 1970s TV sitcom.
ReplyDeleteScarlet... you see what I mean.
Thanks, Baz, I'll look at it forthwith!
Monsieur Crabtree, understanding is not a prerequisite here, which is fortunate. Bonne chance!
Gadjo! There is a new civilizing influence in town, and it is Mrs Gyppo! Yes, she has a blog. You must go there immediately (c/o Gyppo) as she invites us to be rude about his puns. Quick. Go.
ReplyDeleteThey have sour milk here too, but no one has ever asked me to shag their cow (I don't have one of my own). Hey, I've just thought up a joke... How'd you make a cow swing? Not a good joke. Sorry.
ReplyDeleteBTW, is this a private conversation? I've been clicking on the names of people in your comments and I seem to be going around in circles...
Well you haven't left a comment at mine Famulus??? So you've been there and have not said 'hello'????
ReplyDeleteHello Gadj, I almost tagged you, but you haven't got sound and it is a music tag. I tagged Mr Boyo instead, perhaps you can do a joint tag?
Sx
Mrs P, are you Mrs Gyppo has a blog? I can't see any evidence of it yet at chez Gyppo.
ReplyDeleteFamulus - welcome, sir - where do you hail from originally? There's a touch of the Imperium Romanum (or Up Pompeii) about that name! Purleeez tell us the joke about the cow.
I'll take the tag, Young Scarlet, and I should be getting my speakers and everything set up some time next week. Ironically, our builder found a microphone hidden in the wall here, so we think it used to be wired for sound by the security police :-(
Bloody hell! Well you'll have to give them something to listen to then.
ReplyDeleteSx
Scarlet, yes I visited your blog and saw that your dog died. Since I'm totally crap with condolences I thought that I'd leave my introductory comment for another, better time. (You see, I "AM" Mr Insensitive.)
ReplyDeleteGadjo Dilo, I hail from Darn Sarf. As for the joke, well, it wasn't a good one and since I'm kinda making first impressions here I think that I shall also leave that for another time. Bad taste and all...
Gadjo, Mrs Gyppo's blog can be found if you go to Gypp's and look in the left hand corner at his followers and click on that and Mrs Gyppo will appear as if by magic. Scarls and I have already been.
ReplyDeleteAnd Hello Again, Famulus.
Wot larks!
ReplyDeleteYou could sing bad renditions of Al Jolson songs to your wall. If only to reassure the natives that you're friendly.
Hello Mrs Pouncer. How are your thighs?
ReplyDeleteI believe Mrs Pouncer has delicious thoighs, like my Christmas dinner turkey. Yum Yum.
ReplyDeleteI'll have a look for Mrs Gyppo's blog then.
ReplyDeleteIs that Darn Sarf of Britannia, Mr Famulus, or of the Roman Empire taken as a whole (making you an Egyptian)?
Regrettably, Kev, singing like (or, more dangerously, looking like) Al Jolson would not facilitate better relations with the local populace, who think that jazz is the work of the devil :-(
Is it Christmas already?? You're exciting my juices early, Barry (and that's just by mentioning Mrs Pouncer's thighs, never mind Christmas dinner).
That'd be Darn Sarf in the broad area of Southampton... Whilst I have set foot in a fair few other lands, Egypt is not one of them. Yet.
ReplyDeleteNo, it is not Christmas yet. Christmas starts 24 December and Christmas shopping starts a few hours before that. If I remember...
I have to say that all this comment of Mrs Pouncers thighs is doing strange things to me.
I shall now retreat to a dark and quiet corner to regain my inner balance...