Bags of style

Here’s an exercise for people of a certain age. Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room at each side.

With a 2-kilo potato bag in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, and then relax.

Each day you’ll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer. After a couple of weeks, move up to 5-kilo potato bags.

Then try 10-kilo bags, 20-kilo bags and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 50-kilo potato bag in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute. (I’m at this level.)

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each bag.

Going out on a limb

I pulled in at the local Caltex to get petrol, and there was some git filling his car and smoking.

Geez. Worse still, a couple of cops were standing around having a coffee and they did nothing.

I finished went inside to pay, and there was a weird sound and then a lot of yelling.

I looked out, and there was this guy, and sure enough, his arm was on fire. He was waving it around as if that would put it out. He ran over to the coppers for help.

They knocked him to the ground and poured their coffees over him. That did the trick. One way of doing it I guess.

Then they handcuffed the poor guy and chucked him in their paddy wagon. I walked over and asked what he was being arrested for.

They looked at me like I was an idiot and said, “threatening police with a firearm.”

Cut and dried

A policeman called into the base on his radio, “I’ve got a firearm death, Sarge. A little old lady shot her husband for stepping on the floor she’d just mopped.”

“Geez. Ah, okay. I’ll arrange for the body to be collected. Bring her in, and we’ll get a statement.”

“Right. Might take some time.”


“The floor’s still wet.”

Drinks are on the horse

A horse walks into a bar. The bartender asks if the horse is an alcoholic, considering it’s just staggered out of the bar across the street. The horse puts its head on one side, considers and says, “I don’t think I am.”

Poof! The horse disappears.

This is the point where all the philosophy students in the audience begin to giggle, as they are familiar with Déscartes famous proposition cogito ergo sum, meaning “I think, therefore I am.”

But if I were to explain that beforehand, I would be putting Déscartes before the horse.

Mad dogs and Englishmen

In the glory days of the British Empire, a new commanding officer was sent to a jungle outpost to relieve the retiring colonel.

After welcoming his replacement and calling for a brace of snorts in the mess, the retiring colonel said, “You must meet the Adjutant, Major Smithers, my right-hand man. God, he’s really the strength of this office. His talent is simply boundless.”

Smithers was summoned and introduced to the new CO, who was surprised to meet a toothless, hairless, scabbed and pockmarked specimen of humanity, a particularly unattractive hunchbacked, bowlegged man less than a metre tall.

“Smithers, old man, tell the new colonel about yourself.”

“Well, sir, I graduated with honours from Sandhurst, joined the regiment and won the Military Cross and Bar after three expeditions behind enemy lines. I’ve represented Great Britain in equestrian events and won a Silver Medal in the middleweight division of the Olympics. I have researched the history of…”

Here the colonel interrupted, “Yes, yes, never mind that Adj, the CO can find all that in your file. Tell him about the day you told the witch doctor his wife looked like the back end of a baboon.”