At the first hole on a golf course, a man tees off and hits a hard drive, but the ball hooks badly and goes off the course entirely. The man figures it's a lost ball, puts another ball down and starts again. He plays nine holes when a policeman comes up to him:
"Sir, did you lose a ball a while back?"
"Yes, I did. Why?"
"Well, sir, I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you. You see, your ball struck a cyclist, causing him to swerve right into the path of an oncoming bus. The bus hit the cyclist and then rammed head-on into a truck coming from the opposite direction. At the moment the casualties are twenty-one dead and we don't know how many injured."
The man says,
"Oh, this is dreadful!.... I ... I had no idea.... is there anything I can do?"
"Well, sir, the next time you want to hold the club a little more to the right, like this..."
This was one of my dad's favorite jokes:
Emmitt Smith died and went to heaven. When he got to the pearly gates, St. Peter was waiting for him and issued Emmitt an invitation to play for the HFL- the heaven football league. Emmitt thought about it for a minute and said,
"Sure!"
As they walked out to the field, there was a game in progress. Emmitt was stunned. There were a lot of ex-NFL players out on that field. But what he found to be strange was that the jerseys didn't have any numbers. Instead they had letters on them. So he turned around and questioned St. Peter about the numbers. St. Peter chuckled and told him, "Up here we don't need numbers. The letters stand for the position they are playing, QB is for quarterback, WR is for wide receiver and so on." Emmitt smile and nodded his head. But as he gazed around the sidelines, he got a perplexed look on his face. On the other side of the field, there was a man wearing a jersey that had the letters TL. "St. Peter, as you know, I played football many years with the Dallas Cowboys and I am familiar with all the positions. But in all my years I have never seen the position of TL." St. Peter laughed and said,
"Oh yeah, I forgot. That's just God, he likes to pretend that he is Tom Landry."
Come all ye fair young maidens and listen to me,
Never trust a cricketer, whoever he may be.
Randier than a sailor who’s been six months at sea,
Never let a cricketer’s hand an inch above your knee.
First let’s take the paceman, pure speed from first to last!
My darlings do be careful; his ваlls are hard and fast.
Then there’s the medium pacer, his ваlls swing either way;
He’s really most persistent and can keep it up all day!
And watch for the off-sрinnеr, girls, another awkward chap.
If you leave him half an opening, he will slip one through the gap!
Then there’s the wily ‘slowy’, pure cunning is his strength;
He’ll tempt you, then he’ll trap you with his very subtle length.
So ladies, do be careful, your mothers would agree.
Never trust a cricketer, whoever he may be.
And what about the opening bat, his struggles never cease!
He has only one ambition, to spend all day at the crease.
The number three is a dasher, he seldom prods and pokes.
When he goes into action, he has a fine array of strokes..
And do beware the slogger, not content with one or two;
When he arrives at the crease then only six will do.
Then there’s the real stonewaller, girls, he knows what he’s about;
And if you let him settle in, it’s hard to get him out!
We come now to the last man, I hope this will not shock,
He doesn’t mind if he’s last man in, as long as he gets a knock.
So, darlings, do be careful, and be well warned by me:
Never trust a cricketer, whoever he may be.
And watch the wicketkeeper, girls, he’s full of flair and dash;
And if you raise your heel, he’ll whip them off in a flash.
If you take the field with the captain, you had better know the score;
Or he’ll have you in positions that you never knew before!
The cricket commentator is a nasty sort of bloke,
He watches all the action and describes it sтrоке by sтrоке.
Even the kindly umpire, who looks friendly as a pup;
You’ll quickly find you’ve had it, when he puts his finger up!
So, darlings, please remember and repeat it after me:
!!!!Never trust a cricketer, whoever he may be!!!!!
How’s that !
1. Ted Walsh - Horse Racing Commentator - ‘This is really a lovely horse. I once rode her mother.’
2. New Zealand Rugby Commentator - ‘Andrew Mehrtens loves it when Daryl Gibson comes inside of him.’
3. Pat Glenn, weightlifting commentator - ‘And this is Gregoriava from Bulgaria. I saw her snатсh this morning and it was amazing!’
4. Harry Carpenter at the Oxford-Cambridge boat race 1977 - ‘Ah, isn’t that nice. The wife of the Cambridge President is kissing the Соx of the Oxford crew.’
5. US PGA Commentator - ‘One of the reasons Arnie (Arnold Palmer) is playing so well is that, before each tee shot, his wife takes out his ваlls and kisses them. Oh my god !! What have I just said??’
6. Carenza Lewis about finding food in the Middle Ages on ‘Time Team Live’ said: ‘You’d eat веаvеr if you could get it.’
7. A female news anchor who, the day after it was supposed to have snowed and didn’t, turned to the weatherman and asked, ‘So Bob, where’s that eight inches you promised me last night?’ Not only did HE have to leave the set, but half the crew did too, because they were laughing so hard!
8. Steve Ryder covering the US Masters: ‘Ballesteros felt much better today after a 69 yesterday.’
9. Clair Frisby talking about a jumbo hot dog on ‘Look North’ said: ‘There’s nothing like a big hot sausage inside you on a cold night like this. ‘
10 Mike Hallett discussing missed snooker shots on ‘Sky Sports’: ‘Stephen Hendry jumps on Steve Davis’s misses every chance he gets.’
11. Michael Buerk on watching Philippa Forrester cuddle up to a male astronomer for warmth during BBC1’s UK eclipse coverage remarked: ‘They seem cold out there. They’re rubbing each other and he’s only come in his shorts.’
12.. Ken Brown commentating on golfer Nick Faldo and his caddie Fаnny Sunneson lining-up shots at the Scottish Open: ‘Some weeks Nick likes to use Fаnny; other weeks he prefers to do it by himself.’
A group of 2nd, 3rd and 4th graders, accompanied by 2 female teachers, went on a field trip to the local race track to learn about thoroughbred horses and the sporting industry, but mostly to see the horses. When it was time to take the children to the toilet, it was decided that the girls would go with one teacher and the boys would go with the other.
The teacher assigned to the boys was waiting outside the gents when one of the boys came out and told her that none of them could reach the urinаl. Having no choice, she went inside, helped the boys with their trousers, and began lifting the little boys up one by one, and held onto their ‘john thomases’ to direct the flow away from their clothes.
As she lifted one, she couldn’t help but notice that he was unusually well endowed. Trying not to show that she was staring, the teacher said, ‘You must be in the 4th.’ ‘No, ma’am,’ he replied, ‘I’m in the 7th, riding Silver Arrow, but thanks for the lift.’