Ladybird book

For those that can remember those ladybird books.........

http://www.flickr.com/photos/15770837@N06/sets/72157604664757729/show/

Seen this before, but it is very funny...

I was expecting it to be something filthy, and it did have losts of Filth in it.

Have you got a 3 little pigs version too BP?

Justice wrote:

I was expecting it to be something filthy, and it did have losts of Filth in it.

Have you got a 3 little pigs version too BP?

I like the picture of all the coppers lined up, comparing each other's truncheons.

When my brother was a policeman, he was known as 'Good-Boots Stephenson', because - having come straight out of the RAF - he was adept at getting a hell of a shine on his boots for the morning inspection, and every morning, the sarge would say just that.

We went out for a night on the town once, when he was off duty, of course. Standing at the railway station, he noticed a bloke whose photo had been put out, as a warrant for his arrest had been issued. He legged it up to the bloke and pretty much brought him to the ground (like I say, bro was 6' 5" and 20 stone), only to find out he was already out on bail. Next we got onto a train, and bro thought that the young couple sitting opposite were on drugs, so started fumbling in his wallet for his warrant card. I'd had enough by this time, and said that if he didn't pack it in, I was going home without him.

That's the trouble with coppers, they're never off duty.

Tom Stephenson wrote:

I like the picture of all the coppers lined up, comparing each other's truncheons.



That's the trouble with coppers, they're never off duty.

24/7 thats what we signed up for, to keep the "Queens peace", but there is a line to a certain extent on what you act on, i always tell my probabationers or "students" as they are called now we'd rather had a good witness to the crime than a injured copper, unless its something that you have to get invovled with.

If you want to keep the piece of a queen, then talk to Justice.

I don't know what you are talking about sweet cheeks.

When I joined the navy in the late fifties I had to sign a little blue card at Waterloo Station before they would allow me onto the train for Portsmouth. It basically said that I would fight for my Queen and treat all woman as I would have my sister treated.

Guess what...............ha ha ha!

You used to abuse your sister?



Oops have I gone too far.

My sister abused me, but never on a train. That was the golden rule.

That's cos you only ever travelled on poofer trains.

Is it time for my chuffed to bits joke yet?

Prefer your chaffed tits jokes.

Justice wrote:

Is it time for my chuffed to bits joke yet?

No - I've already ripped that one off. OF, OFF, OFF OFF, OFF, OFF, FOFOFOFOFOFOFOFO TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!!!!!!!

This is a public message to Britplod - I'm truly sorry if my wind-up sense of 'humour' went too far yesterday. I really don't mean to be insulting, but I get a bit carried away sometimes after a few bevvies. Like I said, I have the mentality of an 8 year old.

(P.S. Nobody told me to say this, just doG at about 4.00 am last night. No hard feelings, I hope... )

Awwww, Tom. You ARE human after all

Don't worry Britplod I'm here if you want me. Let's chuck the little 8 year old alcoholic in the Tower.

Yes. I am going to tell you my life story now, before Dave does, as I do not believe that he has my best interests at heart.

I was born in Surrey in 1950, and my parents had fled Berlin during the war, because they were fuc.. fuck... fucking... I'm sorry, this is very hard for me, as I have inherited the same affliction that they were both born with.

I tried to make the best of my education, but because I was a fuc... fucki... cun.... because I had this affliction, my schooling was very difficult, and I was eventually sent to a school for cun... cunn.... CUN... people with my parent's affliction, and this was hard for me also, because I found myself surrounded by absolute FUCKING... cun.... cun.... other children who had similar experiences to me.

Eventually, my fuc... fucki.... father pulled a few strings and I was sent to University, where I was shagg... shag... up the.... groomed for a post in the diplomatic service.

All went well until I attained a position in the office at Moscow, and - during a diplomatic dinner - I told the attache for foreign affairs that he smelt of sh... shch... you know what.

Since that time, I have lived in a monastery, where I have been given the duties of attending to the kitchen garden, and this has lasted for over 30 years, and our vow of silence has helped me with my fuc... fucki.... affliction.

However, about a year ago, I was assigned to help with the Brother's distillery business, and part of my duties involved tasting the product before it was released for you cu... cun.... people to drink. At this time, the Order also acquired a new computor, and I - being the youngest in the brotherhood - was assigned the task of controlling it. I am speaking to you from that computor now.

So, you fuck... fucking cun... a combination of alcohol, a computor and tourettes is what makes me what I am today, and I hope you fucking cun.... can find it in your hearts to forgive an old cun....CUN.... monk.

Brother Tom.

You lyi...chea....cu....Why don't you come clean? Find The Almighty Lord in whom we all believe before you go barking bonkers. we all know you're a Rastifarian Dealer with a string of hot panted ladies brought over from Albania in the back of your Robin Reliant.

You can't hide behind a monk disguise you plonker. Monks are not thebrothers that wear multi coloured floppy hats, open necked pure silk scarlet blouses and pointed toe gilt tipped croc skinned boots.

Sorry you just don't fool me.

Ok Britplod, get the backup. Let's get the miserable little git.

On second thoughts. I'm fucking off to bed. I've gotta go down the boatyard early. Bloody great tree's been blown over onto a boat. Soddin' weather.

Cat Cat Cat. Wot the fuck 'ave you done?

The Almighty Lord in whom we all believe!!!!!!!!

Tom I'm sorry I take it all back. You are a monk.

Britplod this is an official complaint. There's a mad dangerous cat loose.

Tom Stephenson wrote:

This is a public message to Britplod - I'm truly sorry if my wind-up sense of 'humour' went too far yesterday. I really don't mean to be insulting, but I get a bit carried away sometimes after a few bevvies. Like I said, I have the mentality of an 8 year old.

(P.S. Nobody told me to say this, just doG at about 4.00 am last night. No hard feelings, I hope... )

None taken, i've got used to the abuse over the years so its in one ear out the other, thats why i dont drink because i've seen and dealt with the dicks that dont know when stop.

Don't get me wrong, I don't go round smashing the place up, I just tend to lose what's left of my inhibitions, that's all. You don't drink at all then? Not even a stiffener before you burst into a pub in the role of your other part time job as a strippergram dressed as a copper?

Isn't 'dick' slang for detective?

Don't get me wrong, I don't go round smashing the place up

You do when a client tries to knock you down in price after you've finished a commission.