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GQ Wagon TB42S
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The NSW Police have found a large number of dead crows on the Sturt Highway just outside Wagga Wagga early this morning, and there was concern that they may have died from Avian Flu.

A Pathologist examined the remains of all the crows, and, to everyone's relief, confirmed the problem was NOT Avian Flu.

The cause of death appeared to be from vehicular impacts. However, during analysis it was noted that varying colours of paints appeared on the bird's beaks and claws.

By analysing these paint residues it was found that 98% of the crows had been killed by impact with motorbikes, while only 2% were killed by cars.

The investigators then hired an Ornithological Behaviourist to determine if there was a cause for the disproportionate percentages of motorbike kills versus car kills.

The Ornithological (Bird) Behaviourist quickly concluded that when crows eat road kill, they always have a look-out crow to warn of danger.

They discovered that while all the lookout crows could shout "Cah", not a single one could shout "bike"


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I Have Imaginary Friends
Patrol Hybrid.
Joined
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19,872 Posts
After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits.
Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit if a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...Oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was.
I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.
At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.
Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the the destruction of the meat and two veg.
Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen, by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief.
I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, toe the lid off and positioned it under me.
The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing returned. Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon.
I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse.
This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.
This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain.
The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before. Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering arhhh ooooohhh that feels good ahhh Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction.
I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status so to sum it up, VEET removes hair, dignity and self-respect.
 

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just a good guy.
2016 BT-50
Joined
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10,276 Posts
After having been told my danglies looked like an elderly Rastafarian I decided to take the plunge and buy some of this as previous shaving attempts had only been mildly successful and I nearly put my back out trying to reach the more difficult bits.
Being a bit of a romantic I thought I would do the deed on the missus's birthday as a bit if a treat.
I ordered it well in advance and working in the North Sea I considered myself a bit above some of the characters writing the previous reviews and wrote them off as soft office types...Oh my fellow sufferers how wrong I was.
I waited until the other half was tucked up in bed and after giving some vague hints about a special surprise I went down to the bathroom. Initially all went well and I applied the gel and stood waiting for something to happen. I didn't have long to wait.
At first there was a gentle warmth which in a matter of seconds was replaced by an intense burning and a feeling I can only describe as like being given a barbed wire wedgie by two people intent on hitting the ceiling with my head.
Religion hadn't featured much in my life until that night but I suddenly became willing to convert to any religion to stop the violent burning around the turd tunnel and what seemed like the the destruction of the meat and two veg.
Struggling not to bite through my bottom lip I tried to wash the gel off in the sink and only succeeded in blocking the plughole with a mat of hair. Through the haze of tears I struggled out of the bathroom across the hall into the kitchen, by this time walking was not really possible and I crawled the final yard to the fridge in the hope of some form of cold relief.
I yanked the freezer drawer out and found a tub of ice cream, toe the lid off and positioned it under me.
The relief was fantastic but only temporary as it melted fairly quickly and the fiery stabbing returned. Due to the shape of the ice cream tub I hadn't managed to give the starfish any treatment and I groped around in the draw for something else as I was sure my vision was going to fail fairly soon.
I grabbed a bag of what I later found out was frozen sprouts and tore it open trying to be quiet as I did so. I took a handful of them and and tried in vain to clench some between the cheeks of my arse.
This was not doing the trick as some of the gel had found its way up the chutney channel and it felt like the space shuttle was running its engines behind me.
This was probably and hopefully the only time in my life I was going to wish there was a gay snowman in the kitchen which should give you some idea of the depths I was willing to sink to in order to ease the pain.
The only solution my pain crazed mind could come up with was to gently ease one of the sprouts where no veg had gone before. Unfortunately, alerted by the strange grunts coming from the kitchen the other half chose that moment to come and investigate and was greeted by the sight of me, arse in the air, strawberry ice cream dripping from my bell end pushing a sprout up my arse while muttering arhhh ooooohhh that feels good ahhh Understandably this was a shock to her and she let out a scream and as I hadn't heard her come in it caused an involuntary spasm of shock in myself which resulted in the sprout being ejected at quite some speed in her direction.
I can understand that having a sprout fired against your leg at 11 at night in the kitchen probably wasn't the special surprise she was expecting and having to explain to the kids the next day what the strange hollow in the ice cream was didn't improve my status so to sum it up, VEET removes hair, dignity and self-respect.
Next time just use a razor like a real man.
 

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I Have Imaginary Friends
Patrol Hybrid.
Joined
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19,872 Posts
Over 70 jokes
I was standing at the bar at the RSL one night, minding my own business.
This quite hefty, very plain looking woman came up behind me, grabbed my arse and said,
"You are very cute. Do you have a phone number?"
I said, "Yes, do you have a pen?"
She said, "Yes, Ive got a pen".
I said, "Then you better get back into it before the farmer misses you.
Cost me 6 stitches but, When you're over seventy ......... who cares ?
**
I went to the chemist and told the girl behind the counter,
"Give me 3 packets of condoms, please."
Lady assistant: "Do you need a paper bag with that, sir?"
I said "No... She's pretty good looking ....."
When you're over seventy ......... who cares?
***
I was talking to a young woman in the RSL last night.
She said, "If you lost a few pounds, had a shave and got your hair cut, you'd look all right."
I said, "If I did that, I'd be talking to your friends over there, instead of you."
Cost me a fat lip, but ... When you're over seventy ... who cares?
**
I was telling a woman in the Club about my ability to guess what day a woman was born, just by feeling her breasts.
"Really" she said, "Go on then ... Try."
After about thirty seconds of fondling she began to lose patience and said,
"Come on, what day was I born?"
I said, "Yesterday."
It cost me a kick in the nuts, but When you're over seventy ........ who cares?
*
I got caught taking a pee in the municipal swimming pool today.
The attendant shouted at me so loudly, through a loud hailer - I nearly fell in.
When you're over seventy...............who cares?
**
I went to our RSL last night and saw a BIG woman dancing on a table.
I said, "Good legs !"
The woman giggled and said, "Do you really think so?"
I said, "Definitely! Most tables would have collapsed by now."
Cost me 6 more stitches, but When you're over seventy ........ who cares?
 

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I Have Imaginary Friends
Patrol Hybrid.
Joined
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19,872 Posts
The Top Ten Remarks of Older Persons



1. I don't care what it looks like! It's comfortable.



2. Why do they print instructions so bloody small???



3. Where did I leave my glasses?



4. Have I taken my pills already?



5. Now, what did I come in here for?



6. Sorry. I've forgotten what I was going to say.



7. Hmmm. I wonder how I got this bruise.



8. In my day, you could . . . .



9. Who in the world is phoning me at 9:30 pm???



10. What day is it?
 

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Y2KGUII ZD Wgn
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53,031 Posts

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Premium Member
nissan
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7,792 Posts
The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family.
On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon.
"Half an hour later, by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to...''
"Oh, no need to explain", Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you."
"Have you really?", said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?"
"Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat ."
After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?"
"Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there."
"Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!"
"Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results."
"My, that's a lot !", gasped Mrs Smith.
"Ma'am, in my line of work a man must take his time. I'd love to be in and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that."
"Don't I know it.", said Mrs Smith quietly.
The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures.
"This was done on the top of a bus," he said.
"Oh my God!", Mrs Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat.
"And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider her mother was so difficult to work with."
"She was difficult?", asked Mrs Smith.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look."
"Four and five deep?", said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement.
"Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in."
Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, um ... equipment?"
"It's true, Ma'am, yes. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away."
"Tripod?"
"Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too heavy to be held in the hand for very long."
With that, Mrs. Smith fainted
 
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