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According to Yogi..............
In the 1070's I worked as a Photogravure printer in Bury, Lancashire. Our shift foreman was a giant of a man called Arthur Morton and for obvious reasons we nicknamed him Yogi. Now Yogi was one for tall tales and he had a collection of tales from the past that always brought a smile to whoever listened. Here are a couple of my favourites;
The Marrow
Yogi's father was a well known horticulturist and his passion was growing Marrows. His best effort, according to Yogi was for the Bury Show in 1958. The day before the show the Marrow was prepared for showing and it was obvious that it was too big to be carried to the show on the bus. Some quick thinking was needed and so they asked the local farmer if he could help them out and he duly obliged by loaning them a donkey and 2 wheeled cart. On the morning of the show they collected the donkey and cart and prepared to load the giant marrow. The marrow was so heavy that a block and tackle hoist had to be used to lift the marrow in a canvas cradle. Eventually the marrow was suspended and the donkey and cart backed underneath it. Slowly and gently they lowered the marrow onto the cart and congratulated each other on a job well done.
Unfortunately the marrow never got to the show. It was only when they went to the front of the cart that they realised, the two front feet of the donkey were suspended 6 inches off the ground.
Billy Smarts Circus
Yogi's tall tales were always a source of wonderment and few, including me, ever believed a word of what he said. At break time on the night shift Arthur began a tale about the day's happenings and complained that he was shattered and it was all Billy Smart's fault. According to Yogi the circus had been travelling in convoy through Bury, on it's way to Manchester. As the convoy passed Arthur's house a van, carrying two Kangaroos, broke down. Arthur, who was out walking his dog saw the driver and offered to help. It soon became clear that the van was going nowhere and that they had two adult Kangaroos without bed for the night. Arthur, who apparently had a lot of experience with Kangaroos (????) offered to take them in for the night, and that was where the story ended. Arthur apparently had two adult Kangaroos lodging in his back-yard.
Not believing a word of this, I said to him that my young son had never seen a Kangaroo and asked if I could bring him round to see them in the morning. Quick as a flash Arthur agreed, and so we arranged for me to take my son, that morning, after work. We were met at the front door by Arthur who said to come through to the back yard. We walked into the yard and Arthur called them. Nothing appeared. ''Blow me'' said Arthur, ''they've jumped over the wall again, I'll have to go find them, let yourselves out''. At that he went out of the back gate, and off down the alleyway, calling to the Kangaroos.
That night at work, Arthur didn't turn up. The other guys were all very interested to know how I'd got on with the Kangaroo visit. I told them what had taken place and we all had a good laugh. The following night Arthur came into work. At break time there was a larger than usual gathering at Arthur's table. One brave soul asked Arthur how he was getting on with the Kangaroos. Arthur explained that he'd eventually found them and that they had been collected by Billy Smart's son that afternoon.
However, it hadn't all gone smoothly. Apparently, and according to Arthur, Kangaroos like nothing better than brown bread. Unfortunately this was 1972, and we were in the middle of a national bread strike. So, that morning, to satisfy the Kangaroo's craving for brown bread, Arthur and his wife had set off travelling from shop to shop trying to find a loaf. After 3 hours of searching they found themselves in a small village near Huddersfield in Yorkshire. They went in the local shop and asked the lady if she had a brown loaf. The lady said she had and commented on Arthur's accent. He explained that they had travelled from Bury in Lancashire searching for a loaf. The lady said she thought she recognised the accent as being from Bury ........ he was the second one that morning!
Nobody told a tall tale like Arthur Morton.
The Marrow
Yogi's father was a well known horticulturist and his passion was growing Marrows. His best effort, according to Yogi was for the Bury Show in 1958. The day before the show the Marrow was prepared for showing and it was obvious that it was too big to be carried to the show on the bus. Some quick thinking was needed and so they asked the local farmer if he could help them out and he duly obliged by loaning them a donkey and 2 wheeled cart. On the morning of the show they collected the donkey and cart and prepared to load the giant marrow. The marrow was so heavy that a block and tackle hoist had to be used to lift the marrow in a canvas cradle. Eventually the marrow was suspended and the donkey and cart backed underneath it. Slowly and gently they lowered the marrow onto the cart and congratulated each other on a job well done.
Unfortunately the marrow never got to the show. It was only when they went to the front of the cart that they realised, the two front feet of the donkey were suspended 6 inches off the ground.
Billy Smarts Circus
Yogi's tall tales were always a source of wonderment and few, including me, ever believed a word of what he said. At break time on the night shift Arthur began a tale about the day's happenings and complained that he was shattered and it was all Billy Smart's fault. According to Yogi the circus had been travelling in convoy through Bury, on it's way to Manchester. As the convoy passed Arthur's house a van, carrying two Kangaroos, broke down. Arthur, who was out walking his dog saw the driver and offered to help. It soon became clear that the van was going nowhere and that they had two adult Kangaroos without bed for the night. Arthur, who apparently had a lot of experience with Kangaroos (????) offered to take them in for the night, and that was where the story ended. Arthur apparently had two adult Kangaroos lodging in his back-yard.
Not believing a word of this, I said to him that my young son had never seen a Kangaroo and asked if I could bring him round to see them in the morning. Quick as a flash Arthur agreed, and so we arranged for me to take my son, that morning, after work. We were met at the front door by Arthur who said to come through to the back yard. We walked into the yard and Arthur called them. Nothing appeared. ''Blow me'' said Arthur, ''they've jumped over the wall again, I'll have to go find them, let yourselves out''. At that he went out of the back gate, and off down the alleyway, calling to the Kangaroos.
That night at work, Arthur didn't turn up. The other guys were all very interested to know how I'd got on with the Kangaroo visit. I told them what had taken place and we all had a good laugh. The following night Arthur came into work. At break time there was a larger than usual gathering at Arthur's table. One brave soul asked Arthur how he was getting on with the Kangaroos. Arthur explained that he'd eventually found them and that they had been collected by Billy Smart's son that afternoon.
However, it hadn't all gone smoothly. Apparently, and according to Arthur, Kangaroos like nothing better than brown bread. Unfortunately this was 1972, and we were in the middle of a national bread strike. So, that morning, to satisfy the Kangaroo's craving for brown bread, Arthur and his wife had set off travelling from shop to shop trying to find a loaf. After 3 hours of searching they found themselves in a small village near Huddersfield in Yorkshire. They went in the local shop and asked the lady if she had a brown loaf. The lady said she had and commented on Arthur's accent. He explained that they had travelled from Bury in Lancashire searching for a loaf. The lady said she thought she recognised the accent as being from Bury ........ he was the second one that morning!
Nobody told a tall tale like Arthur Morton.
Comments
yeah we could,nt tell which one it was when we were kids.he were a big irish man brought up in cork,lost his eye playing skittles(dont ask me how),we could,nt tell if he were asleep or not cuz if his eye was in when he was asleep it would stay open,or sometimes he would take it out and just sit there straight faced with his good eye open,well us kids would start pullin faces at him thinking he was asleep when he was,nt and he used to chase all over the garden
he was on the toilet one day having a wizz,he always had a habit of flicking his eye out and giving the socket abit of an itch.well you know what happend next,as he saw it disappear down the bog he run down stairs hoping to catch it if he got to the manhole first,his reaction said it all as he lifted the cover,(in a broad oirish accent)jaysus the damn tings loiking at me ,as it floated into oblivion
he was in a bar with nearly a full pint,there were 2 young lads in there abit wasted trying to have the craic and taking the mick,he was usually up for anything like he could tie anybody up with his quick wit,but this night he had things on his mind.he goes the bog and comes back and most of his pints gone,so he asks the 2 lads if they had drunk it ,they said the hadn,t giggling under their breathes, so he waits a while until the 2 lads order a pint apiece,he goes to their table and says thems my drinks lads to which they replied i dont think so old man
which then led to him popping his eye out and dipping it in their pints...they duly left without drinking their pints.
ah me grandad he could tell a story
Why i dont eat hotdogs
years ago a friend of mine used to live next to a well known 'sporting venue' and a lot of the punters, when leaving, would ask for directions to the nearest take - away. He saw a niche in the market, and decided to open a hotdog stall outside the ground, he rang the local government agencies to enquire about licences/health and safety/insurance etc, and was asked 'are you selling on public or private land, to which he replied 'my driveway'. after filling out all the paperwork sent to him he was told, 'you need to register as a business and we recommend you have some sort of food hygene training'. My friend then found a company that would hire an 'ready assembled' hotfood stall on a weekly basis, and then proceded to source the 'sausages' for his enterprise. He finally settled on a supplier, but asked for some samples of the product prior to commencement. A couple of days later a lorry arrived, and the driver proceded to unload box after box of 'free samples' There were over 5000 hotdog sausages and he thought 'where the .... am i gonna store these - ive only got a fridge freezer' He then read the packaging-'store at room temperature' They were vacuum packed so he put them in the cellar. ' use by 2002' this was 1997, so they had a 5 year lifespan! The cost of these hotdogs if you wish to purchase on a regular basis - 1.5p per unit. My mate said to me ' what sort of meat would you get for 1.5p and a 5 year sell by date, and store at room temperature' I agreed and said 'you wouldnt find me eating them', he said 'too right, its immoral' so i said 'so you didnt bother selling them then?' and he said ' of course i did, i made a fortune!' He then showed me the list of ingredients, and the main two were, 'mechanically recovered meat', and 'connecting tissue' 'urgh', i said, then went home and looked in my cupboards and found a tin of hotdog sausages. I read the ingredients and it said 'connecting tissue and mechanically recovered meat' I threw it out and still to this day, when shopping look at the ingredients on all meat products (my wife thinks im mad) and will never buy any mrm foods. - check your cupboards now, i bet you will find one.
Nice story M8.
was working in basildon shopfitting late eighties it was in the shopping mall.before we did the fitout we had to do the ripout,basically rip everything out of the old shop and skip it or weigh in any metals etc.anyway there was a escalator in there that had to go with glass panels running up the sides we ripped it out and after we got rid of the motors there was a big pit in the floor so what we did was throw all the glass from the escalator into the pit before it was concreted over.well as i was chucking the glass it caught me jeans just below me groin(well just above me knee really)it left a big L shaped tear very lucky escape i might add.
I didn,t think much about it and the next day i went get a sarnie from sainsburys and i was walking up the mall,quite a few people mulling about i noticed a lady looking at me with like a half grin then saw another middle aged lady smiling at me and im thinking hey up i,ve got the look today so i starts to walk abit upright thinking im the man.so i walks into sainsburys and there was another walking towards me mouth wide open but with a look of,how can i say,shocknhorror looking down at me nether regions,so i look down and could,nt believe what i saw,i only looked like DUMBO hanging there in all its glory you see i had me boxers on that day all loose and flimsy holding nowt in embarrassed wasn,t the word.
moral of the story ALWAYS ware pants when you,ve got a rip in your jeans