Archive for June 22nd, 2005

Flying Wings

Last week the driver gave me a (horsey) tip. I told him I didn’t bet on the geegees, but he gave me the name of the horse anyway. Later on when I turned the television on it was on whichever BBC channel was showing Ascot. So I decided I would have a gamble. Won £20.

So I thanked him today and he gave me another. Here it is:

Salsbury 22.06.2005 (Today)
5:10
James Cairn

He also told me some stories I shall share these too.

The Irish Man & The Lorry

Sat in a pub one night an Irishman started telling the story of how he was standing behind a lorry beckoning it on as it was being reversed. Launching into his best Irish accent, “That’s it, come on. You’ve got plenty a’room”. Only turns out he didn’t. There was a post behind him and he got caught between the lorry and the post. At this point the driver (I can’t for the life of me remember his name, so I’m going to have to continue referring to him as “the driver”) said he couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of how this Irish guy got himself into the situation and the accent was just making it worse. The Irishman was not happy and this and
said he nearly died and lifted his shirt to show massive scars all over his torso. Didn’t help apparently, still carried on laughing his head off.

Mine’s bigger than yours

Now I didn’t think anybody actually did this but… they were in the pub and they were playing one of their favourite games. Measuring their pieces and seeing whos was the biggest. Apparently there was one guy who I assume won all the time and had something of a schlong. One of the other contestants grew wearisome of this and said “I’m tired of seeing that thing” and proceeded to introduce said schlong to the cigarrette in his hand. This resulted in much screaming and yelling from the schlong-owner.

Keys!

This is a more recent one (I gather these other stories he told me were from some years past now), and happended just last week. The driver had gone to Woolworths before setting off on the return leg of his journey back to Liverpool. He’d bought whatever it was he needed and was leaving the shop. Realising that he forgotten a magazine he’d promised to pick up for his wife he turned around. Waiting in line with said magazine he heard the cashier call accross to her colleague that there was some keys here and would he take them to lost property. On hearing this the driver checked his pockets. There were no keys. Some serious embarrasement and head scratching was avoided. They were his keys. The keys to the wagon.

No more tips or stories next week. He’s off on his hols.

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