Posts Tagged ‘Humour’

An Obituary printed in the London Times

Tuesday, January 25th, 2011

I am not sure who wrote this but it was sent to me by email today by a friend. It appears to have originated from Lori Borgman but adapted for the UK.

An Obituary printed in the London Times – Interesting and sadly – rather true

‘Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

  • Knowing when to come in out of the rain;
  • Why the early bird gets the worm;
  • Life isn’t always fair;
  • and Maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don’t spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn’t defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, by his daughter, Responsibility, and by his son, Reason.

He is survived by his 4 step brothers;
I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I’m A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realised he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing.


A Greek Christmas Poem

Monday, December 28th, 2009

You need to be Greek, or have at least some Greek knowledge, to appreciate this fully. I received this by email from Julie, my Godfather’s wife, in Kalamata, Greece. If you know where it originated from then please let me know.

T’was the night before Hristouyenna and all through the spiti

I could smell fasolatha & pasticho through my miti.

Pandofles were hung on the fireplace quite low,

Hoping Ayios Vasilis would bring some poto.

Patera in his krevati was snoring pretty hard,

Tired from stealing the tree from

our malaka neighbours’ yard.

Mama was in the basement cooking like a nikokira,

adding just enough lemon to her fresh made horta.

When the thorivo came from outside the porta,

Baba yelled from his room “ela mesa re malaka”.

The knocking on the door, such a rude, loud barage ,

I yelled through the window

“It’s a Greek house re malaka, come in through the garage!”

Then, standing in the garage right next to my car,

was my drunk thio Mitso coming home from the bar.

“Ainde kimisou methismene” I told him with might,

“you’ll ruin my chances of seeing Ayio Vasilis tonight”.

About two hours later I heard a noise down the stair,

I jumped from my krevati to see who was there.

Standing by the tree eating leftover fakkes,

Was Ayios Vasilis reeking of tsiporo no less.

He was all dressed in red and as big as an ox,

Wearing brown “pandofles” along with black socks.

Smelling like a katsiki with a touch of “Old Spice”,

He’d been drinking for days and smelled not very nice.

He was putting the presents out under the tree,

They were wrapped like skata, it was quite plain to see.

Vrakyia & 6 kaltses from Myer for me,

and 12 for my brother cuz he’s only 3.

This Santa was paraxenos, nothing like the fable,

Before leaving he stole my tsigara from the table.

I yelled “Eh, Ay’ Vasili, ti kaneis ekie?”

and he turned and he threw his “pandofla” at me.

The look in his eyes was nothing but fright,

He said “fiye apo tho, re malaka” and dashed out of sight.

And he called to his reindeer, and called them by name

I knew they were not the same animals from “Jingle Bell” fame..

“Ela Mitso, Sotiri, ke Nektario,

Yianni kai Taki, Thanasi kai Yiorgo…”

“Ainde grigora na pao ya katourima”,

and he yelled as he went “KALA XRISTOUYENNA”.