Jokes for Mothering Sunday

A 96 year old mother was being interviewed about her long life and how she felt about being a Mother all those years.

‘I feel just wonderful,’ was her reply. ‘For the first time since I became a Mother, I no longer have to worry about my children.’

‘How is that?’

‘They’re both in nursing homes’.”


* My mother taught me religion.
‘You better pray that spot will come out of the carpet.’

* My mother taught me about time travel.
‘If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!’

* My mother taught me about logic.
‘If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the shops with me.’

* My mother taught me foresight.
‘Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.’

* My mother taught me about the science of osmosis.
‘Shut your mouth and eat your supper.’

* My mother taught me about contortionism.
‘Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck?’

* My mother taught me about behaviour modification.
‘Stop acting like your father!’

* My mother taught me about envy.
‘There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don’t have wonderful parents like you do.’

* My mother taught me ESP.
‘Put your sweater on! Don’t you think I know when you are cold?’

* My mother taught me humour.
‘When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don’t come running to me.’

* My mother taught me how to become an adult.
‘If you don’t eat your vegetables, you’ll never grow up.’

* My mother taught me genetics.
‘You’re just like your father.’

* My mother taught me wisdom.
‘When you get to be my age, you’ll understand.’

* My mother taught me about justice.
‘One day you’ll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!

mother superhero

A very spiritual, devout and holy priest dies and is immediately swept up to heaven. St. Peter greets him at the Pearly Gates, and says,
“Hello, Father, we’ve been waiting for you for a long time. Welcome to Heaven! You are very well known here, and as a special reward, because you are such a spiritual and holy man, we’re going to grant you anything you wish even before you enter Heaven. What can I grant you?”

“Well,” the priest says, “I’ve always been a great admirer of the Virgin Mother. I’ve always wanted to talk to her.”

St. Peter nods his head to one side, and lo and behold who should approach the priest but the Virgin Mary!  The priest is beside is himself, and he manages to say,

“Mother, I have always been a great admirer of yours, and have studied everything I could about you and followed your life as best I could. I have studied every painting and portrait ever made of you, and I’ve noticed that you are always portrayed with a slightly sad look on your face. I have always, always wondered what it was that made you sad. Would you please tell me?”

“Honestly?” she asked, with a little pained grimace on her face. “Well…. I was really hoping for a girl.”

unattended children

Mum and Dad were watching TV when Mum said, “I’m tired, and it’s getting late. I think I’ll go to bed.”
She went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day’s lunches. Rinsed out the dishes, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put spoons and bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next morning. She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes into the wash, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button.
She picked up the game pieces left on the table and put the telephone book back into the drawer. She watered the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung up a towel to dry. She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom.
She stopped by the desk and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the school trip, and pulled a textbook out from hiding under the chair. She signed a birthday card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelope and wrote a quick shopping list. She put both near her purse.
Mum then washed her face with 3 in 1 cleanser, put on her Night cream & age fighting moisturizer, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed her nails.
Dad called out, “I thought you were going to bed.”
“I’m on my way,” she said.
She put some water into the dog’s dish and put the cat outside, then made sure the doors were locked. She looked in on each of the kids and turned out their bedside lamp, hung up a shirt, threw some dirty socks in the hamper, and had a brief conversation with the one up still doing homework.
In her own room, she set the alarm; laid out clothing for the next day, straightened up the shoe rack. She added three things to her 6 most important things to do list. She said her prayers, and visualized the accomplishment of her goals.
About that time, Dad turned off the TV and announced to no one in particular. “I’m going to bed.” And he did…without another thought.

How to give a cat a pill

1. Pick up cat and cradle it in the crook of your left arm as if holding a baby.

Position right forefinger and thumb on either side of cat’s mouth and gently apply pressure to cheeks while holding pill in right hand.  As cat opens mouth, pop pill into mouth. Allow cat to close mouth and swallow.

2. Retrieve pill from floor and cat from behind sofa.

Cradle cat in left arm and repeat process.

3. Retrieve cat from bedroom, and throw soggy pill away.

4. Take new pill from foil wrap, cradle cat in left arm, holding rear paws tightly with left hand.

Force jaws open and push pill to back of mouth with right forefinger. Hold mouth shut for a count of ten.

5. Retrieve pill from goldfish bowl and cat from top of wardrobe.

Call spouse in from the garden.

6. Kneel on floor with cat wedged firmly between knees, hold front and rear paws.

Ignore low growls emitted by cat. Get spouse to hold head firmly with one hand while forcing wooden ruler into mouth. Drop pill down ruler and rub cat’s throat vigorously.

7. Retrieve cat from curtain rail.

Get another pill from foil wrap. Make note to buy new ruler and repair curtains. Carefully sweep shattered figurines and vases from hearth and set to one side for gluing later.

8. Wrap cat in large towel and get spouse to lie on cat with head just visible from below armpit.

Put pill in end of drinking straw, force mouth open with pencil and blow down drinking straw

9. Check label to make sure pill not harmful to humans and drink one beer to take taste away.

Apply band-aid to spouse’s forearm and remove blood from carpet with cold water and soap.

10. Retrieve cat from neighbour’s shed.

Get another pill. Open another beer. Place cat in cupboard, and close door onto neck, to leave head showing. Force mouth open with dessert spoon. Flick pill down throat with elastic band.

11. Fetch screwdriver from garage and put cupboard door back on hinges. Drink beer. Fetch bottle of scotch. Pour shot, drink.

Apply cold compress to cheek and check records for date of last tetanus shot. Apply whiskey compress to cheek to disinfect. Toss back another shot. Throw tee-shirt away and fetch new one from bedroom.

12. Call fire department to retrieve the #$%^&* cat from the top of the tree across the road. Apologize to neighbour who crashed into fence while swerving to avoid cat.

Take last pill from foil wrap.

13. Using heavy-duty pruning gloves from shed, tie the little *&#%^’s front paws to rear paws with garden twine and bind tightly to leg of dining table. Push pill into mouth followed by large piece of fillet steak. Be rough about it. Hold head vertically and pour two pints of water down throat to wash pill down.

14. Consume remainder of scotch. Get spouse to drive you to the emergency room. Sit quietly while doctor stitches fingers and forearm and removes pill remnants from right eye. Call furniture shop on way home to order new table.

15. Arrange for RSPCA to collect mutant cat from hell and call local pet shop to see if they have any hamsters.

How To Give A Dog A Pill

1. Wrap it in bacon.

2. Toss it in the air.

3. All done!

When I get old

When I get old I will have whiskers and smell of cheap scent.
I will invites relatives to tea in a gloomy sitting room and drink cheap, sweet sherry from a china cup.
I will take it surreptitiously from a bottle kept in a large knitting bag by my chair.
No one attending the Tea will know if I am eccentric or drunk.

Little child relatives will be brought to Tea all scrubbed and the boys will have their hair slicked down with water.
I will insist on it.
They will have to sit quietly on the sofa and I will address them in a high pitched querulous voice as: “That boy” or “that girl”.
They’ll swing their legs and make their parents nervous because the room will be full of knick knacks that look valuable.
I will insist on telling long stories about where they all came from and will frown at crumbs dropped on the carpet.

I will have a sporty little red car and will drive down the centre lane of the M8 at 30 miles an hour playing the Pogues and Home Service 70s folk rock at full blast.
Especially the track that goes: “I Know I’m Never Gonna’ Be a Cowboy Now.”
When policemen who are too young to have left school pull me over and offer to drive the car home, I will say “What!” very loudly and often because I will be very deaf.

When I am 99 and ½  I’ll die and people will gather round my relatives and say things like:

“Eeee! She were a rum ‘un, your Auntie.”

Then, when they go to pack up my life, they will find that all the knick knacks have ‘A present from Blackpool’ on them and the insurance was spent years ago.
They will find empty bottles of eccentricity in little nests all over the house, and will have to ferry them to the tip in ones and twos so the neighbours don’t find out that I was a bad old bat and a lush to boot.


(Source unknown but I like it!)

Palm Sunday Sprint

I remember a certain priest who always prayed hard for rain on Palm Sunday so he didn’t have to process outside his church.  However, it has always seemed to me to be a necessary… evil, is not quite the word I’m looking for.  So yesterday as it was gloriously sunny and warm here in Falkirk, process we did. It was our All Age Service and we had a young person as crucifer and I suggested that he didn’t hang about when leading the procession. (He does a deliciously slow process when bringing up the elements at mass, but at that speed we’d get through ‘Ride on, Ride on in Majesty’ at least 3 times.) So off he set, lickety splick, and we galloped after him. I was bringing up the rear, running slightly as they disappeared round the corner ahead of me. In fact, 20 Silk Cut a day prevented me singing and running at the same time. Especially singing at the same speed as walking/jogging/galloping. Thank goodness the organist kept on playing for a few verses at a more sedate pace  once we got in to allow us to catch our breath.

Three of our young Confirmation candidates read the Narrative of the Passion too and it was incredibly moving. Young ‘Jesus’ couldn’t really be seen behind the ‘big burrd’ but his lovely deep voice rang out loud and clear. And the other two read at a wonderful pace and with great feeling too. It was really awesome.

Then in the afternoon our housebound and elderly were picked up by our lovely volunteers and ferried in for another Palm Sunday service (without procession naturally) and then Afternoon Tea with our new cakestands.  And no, I won’t tell you how many cupcakes I consumed.

So it was a wonderful day, uplifting and sorrowful all in one. Just what you need to kick off Holy Week. And I was in bed by 8.30pm sound asleep.

And my quote from the week from Milton Jones:

Sometimes religion can seem like the last person in a long game of Chinese whispers. Once Jesus said, ‘Love God and each other’, and now we have the Easter Bunny!


The Alternative Rocky Horror Service Book

From this week’s Private Eye (50th Anniversary Issue)…

The Canon (for it is he):  Brothers and Sisters, you are gathered here together in your tents to make your voices heard in protest at the recent failings of global capitalism.

Protesters: Yes indeedy!

The Canon:  You are right welcome here as the church has a long tradition of helping the poor and crusading for social justice wheresoever it may be needful.

Protestors:  Thanks be to you, O Canon.

(There follows a reading from the Book of Health and Safety Regulations, Chapter 7, Page 75, paragraph 13b.)

Reader:  The erection of tented structures within 10 metres of the Cathedral’s main access point creates an unacceptable safety hazard to visitors in so far as the tent guy ropes may cause serious injuries and the associated cooking devices of the camp dwellers may constitute a fire hazard to tourists and worshippers alike who are not covered by the ecclesiastical church insurance policies issued by Messers Whittam Strobes of Chichester.

(The Dean will here take over and close the Cathedral doors until further notice.)

The Dean:  O Lord close our doors.

Protestors:  Result! Way to go!

The Dean:  Let us now pray for the Cathedral and its revenues that are so severely stricken by this well meaning but ultimately rather irritating protest. Let us pray for the gift shop with its agreeable postcards and reasonably priced audio guides which are now lying idle. Let us pray for the coffee shop with it’s excellent carrot cake and organic smoothies. And let us pray above all for those entrusted with collecting the admission fees which usually amount to over £16,000 per day.

Protestors (outside):  Boo! Capitalist bastards!

The Dean:  That is indeed a very fair comment, however, we are a business like many others with huge overheads and a small army of clergy whose modest stipends do need to be paid.

Clergy:  Got any spare change, guv?

The Dean: We shall now sing our final hymn.

Hymn:  There is a green hill far away, perhaps you would like to go and camp there instead?

Protestors:  We shall not be moved.

New Year joke

One day in the Garden of Eden, Eve calls out to God:

“Lord, I have a problem.”

“What’s the problem, Eve?”

“Lord, you’ve created me and provided this beautiful spot, these wonderful animals, and that comedic snake, but I’m just not happy.”

“Why is that, Eve?” came the voice from above.

“Lord, I am lonely. And I’m sick to death of apples.”

“Well, perhaps I have a solution. I shall create a man for you.”

“What’s a man, Lord?”

“Man will be a flawed creature, with aggressive tendencies, an enormous ego and an inability to empathize. All in all, he’ll give you a hard time. But he’ll be bigger, faster, and stronger than you. And while he’ll need your advice to think properly, he’ll be good at fighting, kicking a ball around, hunting fleet-footed ruminants, and not altogether bad in the sack.

“Sounds good to me,” says Eve. “But isn’t there a catch, Lord?”

“Yeah, well, there is one.”

“What’s that, Lord?”

“You’ll have to let him believe that I made him first.”