I’m handing over my Feel Good Friday page to the talented Jim Webster today. Jim who is a farmer and a writer, is an extremely funny chap (I mean he has a great sense of humour) and has written some outstanding books so if you’re looking for a Christmas present for a long-suffering hubby, check out the book links at the bottom of the post.
In his honour I’ve got a couple of farm related jokes:
Q. What do you call a chicken wearing a shell-suit?
A. An egg.
A lion, a gorilla and a chicken were bragging in a bar.
“I am the greatest,” said the gorilla. “When I beat my chest everyone backs away respectfully.”
“No, I am the greatest,” said the lion. “When I roar everyone in earshot runs away screaming.”
“Ha!” said the chicken. “You should see the worldwide media reaction if I so much as sneeze…”
Now, it’s over to Jim:
A mate of mine would bring his wife to our farm, just to show her how a real farm works. It was all going so nicely as well. Firstly the dog didn’t jump up at her, which given she was wearing a white trouser suit was probably for the best. Then the calves all lined the gate and sucked her fingers which delighted her. But then we saw the bull.
There’s probably no delicate way to put this, but our bull, Ted, is distinctly ‘well hung.’ Not only that but he rather drew attention to himself by bellowing lustily at a batch of maiden heifers two fields away.
In somewhat awed fascination she asked, “How many cows will he, ‘you know’ a day?”
So I answered, “Two or three.”
With that she elbowed her husband. “Did you hear that dear, two or three, a day!”
Then she turned to me and asked, “How many a week?”
“Oh perhaps up to twenty?”
Again she elbowed her husband. “What do you think of that dear, twenty a week!”
At this point her husband commented, in a rather bored voice, “Yes dear but remember it’s with a different cow each time.”
Moving swiftly on, Carol said I had to write something to make her readers laugh. I’m good at that. I can get my lady wife howling with mirth as I tell people I don’t snore, or that I’m properly house-trained and tidy up after myself.
Well howling at any rate.
But still I try, what more can a husband do?
I’m also really good at buying Christmas presents, but then I’ve learned from wise friends. A friend of mine bought his wife a beautiful diamond ring for Christmas. When I heard what he’d done I was a bit put out, because when word of that sort of thing gets round, they’ll all expect it. Anyway I bumped into him one evening in the pub and asked him about it. I pointed out to him him, “Why did you buy her that ring? I thought she wanted one of those sporty four-wheel-drive vehicles.”
He just looked at me as if I were an idiot. “She did, but where was I going to find a fake Jeep?”
But anyway, I thought I might drop you a few hints about the presents you should buy your grumpy. I hate to say it but it’s a sad fact that, actually, a chap can have too many pairs of slippers, or nice cardigans or socks or whatever.
Not only that but unless your plan for the coming twelve months involves him sinking deeper into a grumpy old age it might just be that these aren’t the best presents to get him.
Thus and so, may I make a few suggestions? What could be better for a chap (or even your good self) than a good book? What about a ripping yarn, something to summon up the blood and stiffen the sinews?
Especially if the hero is a chap who will never see fifty again but finds himself forced into doing interesting and unusual things merely to stay alive? Then I feel obliged to recommend for your (and your grumpy’s) delectation and delight two books.
Available for Kindle or in Paperback, with the added advantage that if he likes them, there are some more by the same author (to be honest, the author is me but I suspect you’ve guessed that) to cover birthdays and similar occasions of public rejoicing.
And when you’re ordering his present from Amazon, it would be a waste of money not to pick up something for yourself at the same time to save the postage wouldn’t it?