The English Are
A Funny Lot
by Charlie
Britten
Holidays in England
An American
couple, Marvin and Martha, had heard that the
British were backward, but they took a holiday in
the UK anyway. They were checking into
Sue’s bed and breakfast in rural Suffolk one
evening during their trip, when they noticed that
their room did not have an en suite bathroom. “Say,”
asked Marvin, “where do we bathe?”
Sue frowned
for a moment then her face cleared. “Well,
we’re not on the coast here... but
there’s always the river.”
Marrying the English
Maciej, who
was Polish, married Tracey, a beautiful
Englishwoman, and set up home with her in England. Maciej
worked on improving his English language skills
while Tracey did her make-up and painted her
nails.
However, a few
months on, Maciej rang 999, crying, “My wife,
she tries to kill me.”
“Are you
sure?” asked the call-centre operator.
“She has
bottle of poison. With my name on it.”
“Now, sir,
have you been drinking?”
“You come
to my house. Please.”
The
Neighbourhood Policeman, PC Smith, was sent to
investigate. Maciej ushered him inside and up the
stairs to the bathroom. “See, see,”
he whispered, pointing to a bottle of turquoise
liquid on the window ledge. “Poison.”
“Well,
sir,” said PC Smith, taking out his notebook,
“I don't see anything unusual here.”
Maciej thrust
the bottle in front of his face. “Read, read,”
he said, pointing at the label.
PC Smith
pressed the point of his pencil into his chin. “‘Polish
remover’, sir?”
English Hacks Abroad
During the
last days of Empire, the reptiles of the press
had gathered in a central African state hanging
around to report on its bloody revolution. When a
new dictator ordered all Western hacks out the
country by midnight, they packed their luggage
and got into their cars, watched by gunmen
wielding machetes and Kalashnikovs. As the
westerners faced a long drive through the bush,
where they were unlikely to find petrol, many of
them queued at a garage by the border.
Ten o'clock...
eleven o'clock... half past eleven... One-by-one
the hacks’ cars edged off the forecourt and
along the road to the border-post a mile away.
John from
Yorkshire reached the pumps at ten to twelve. As
his newspaper paid all his expenses, he asked for
a receipt - naturally. He couldn't
understand why his colleagues behind him had a
problem with this. After all, the receipt only
took the pump attendant five minutes to write.
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