A kilted Scotsman was walking down a country path after finishing off a large amount of scotch whiskey at a local pub. As he wandered down the road, he felt quite sleepy and decided to take a nap, so sat down with his back against a tree.
As he slept, two young female French tourists walked down the road and heard the Scotsman snoring loudly. When they came to the source of the snores, one lass said, "I've always wondered what a Scotsman wears under his kilt."
So she boldly walked over to the sleeper, raised his kilt, and saw what nature had provided him with.
Her friend said, "Well, he has solved a great mystery for us! Let's thank him for the education!"
Whereupon, she took a pretty blue ribbon from her hair and gently tied it around what nature had provided to the Scotsman.
Sometime later, the Scotsman was awakened by the call of nature. He walked around to the other side of the tree, raised his kilt and bewilderment filled his mind at the sight of the bright blue ribbon tied neatly in a bow.
After several moments passed, he said, "I donna know where y'been, laddy...but it's nice t'see ye won furst prize!"
Two Irishmen were on a tour of Italy and ended up in Rome, including a tour of the Vatican. Afterwards they went to the pub (as you do) and came up with the idea they should drink something local instead of Guinness. So they asked the barman "So, what does the Pope drink?".
"Well, I've heard he's sometimes partial to a Creme de Menthe"
The two looked at each other having no idea what that was, but then said "Righto then, we'll have pint of that each".
The night passed into oblivion. The next morning, they woke up in the square outside the pub, with no memory of how they got there. Each of them had great green stains of vomit on their clothing and could barely see. As they struggled up, one said to the other:
"If that's wha' he drinks, it's nay wonder they carry him in on a chair!"
Good afternoon lovely Chockstoners.
Dearie me, isn't it disgraceful how the NSW Parks people are handling the climbing issue in Sydney Harbour National Park.
Derek my M10 love, is quite worked up about it, and has gone on and on about it to me. He is currently looking for something stronger than chamomile tea (Yoo hoo Mr kuu! Waving at you madly from over here! Sterling job you are doing for Sydney Rockies on that front dearie!), to sooth his ruffled feathers.
Now where was I, oh yes now I remember. It seems to me that those Parks people are like the people in the following story I found. They get all bound up in their ways and lose sight of what they are supposed to be on about?
THE POPE AND THE RABBI.
Every time a new Pope is elected, there are many rituals in accordance with tradition.
Well, there is one tradition that very few people know about.
Shortly after the new Pope is enthroned, the Chief Rabbi of Rome seeks an audience. He is shown into the Pope's presence, whereupon he presents the Pope with a silver tray bearing a velvet cushion. On top of the cushion is an ancient, shriveled envelope. The Pope symbolically stretches out his arm in a gesture of rejection.
The Chief Rabbi then retires, taking the envelope with him and does not return until the next Pope is elected.
A new Pope's reign was shortly followed by a new Chief Rabbi. He was intrigued by this ritual, and that its origins were unknown to him. He instructed the best scholars of the Vatican to research it, but they came up with nothing.
When the time came and the Chief Rabbi was shown into his presence, they faithfully enacted the ritual rejection but, as the Chief Rabbi turned to leave, His Holiness calls him back.
"My brother," the Pope whispers, "I must confess that we Catholics are ignorant of the meaning of this ritual enacted for centuries between us and you, the representative of the Jewish people. I have to ask you, what is it all about?"
The Chief Rabbi shrugs and replies: "But we have no more idea than you do. The origin of the ceremony is lost in the traditions of ancient history."
The Pope said: "Let us retire to my private chambers and enjoy a glass of kosher wine together; then with your agreement, we shall open the envelope and discover the secret at last."
The Chief Rabbi agrees.
Fortified in their resolve by the wine, they gingerly pried open the curling parchment envelope and with trembling fingers, the Chief Rabbi reached inside and extracted a folded sheet of similarly ancient paper.
As the Pope peered over his shoulder, he slowly opens it. They both gasped with shock -
It is a bill for the Last Supper from "Moishe the Caterer".