Bottoming & Bung

English: Cory Monteith as Finn Hudson on the Glee Live! In Concert! tour. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Apologies that I haven’t replied to your comments for days.  Our German visitors – who were lovely and, contrary to popular British opinion, proved that Germans do have a sense of humour – left yesterday and I collapsed on the couch in front of the TV, catching up with Glee (I’m up to date with ER).  It was rather poignant to watch what were probably Cory Monteith’s last scenes.

I have been reading your comments even if I haven’t had time to reply; and also your emails.  Please accept my apologies for not replying to those, either.  I was too tired to go near the computer yesterday, and I am about to go out just now, catching two buses to a sleep clinic in Manchester.  

Sadly, it doesn’t live up to the hype of its name: no sleeping for me; just an oxygen thingy for my finger, to determine whether I have sleep apnoea.  I will probably have to go back again tomorrow, as the NHS needs to hold on to its oxygen thingies for other sleep-problemed patients; so I may not get a chance to reply until Thursday.  I really am sorry. Or I would be, if I could stay awake long enough to care about social conventions.

One Thousand Years of German Humour with Henning Wehn and Otto Kuhn (Photo credit: dullhunk)

I have enjoyed your discussion of the meanings of ‘bottoming’ and ‘bung’.  I didn’t have a title for this post until I wrote that last line, so thank you once again, dear readers.

I can tell you now what bottoming and bung are not: they are not the named partners of a dodgy law firm.

Keep guessing; or tell me what you think their real meanings are – or are not.  

The funniest reply will receive an answer in the comments from me.  Can’t say fairer than that, can I?

No, really, I can’t: my temporary crown has given me a lisp.

 

Joke 845

Cover via Amazon

A teacher gave her fifth grade class an assignment to get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it.  The next day the kids came back and one by one began to tell their stories.

Ashley said, “My father’s a farmer and we have a lot of egg-laying hens.

One time we were taking our eggs to market in a basket on the front seat of the car when we hit a big bump in the road and all the eggs went flying and broke and made a mess.”

“What’s the moral of the story?” asked the teacher.

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket!”

“Very good,” said the teacher.

Next little Sarah raised her hand and said, “Our family are farmers too. But we raise chickens for the meat market.

We had a dozen eggs one time, but when they hatched we only got ten live chicks, and the moral to this story is, don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.”

“That was a fine story Sarah.  Michael, do you have a story to share?”

“Yes, my daddy told me this story about my Aunt Karen.

Aunt Karen is an Apache helicopter pilot in Afghanistan and one day her helicopter was hit with a rocket.

She had to bail out over enemy territory and all she had was a bottle of whisky, a machine gun and a knife.

She drank the whisky on the way down so it wouldn’t break and then she landed right in the middle of 100 Taliban troops.

She killed seventy of them with the machine gun until she ran out of bullets.

Then she killed twenty more with the knife until the blade broke. Then she killed the last ten with her bare hands.”

“Good heavens,” said the horrified teacher, “what kind of moral did your daddy tell you from that horrible story?”

“Stay the HELL away from Aunt Karen when she’s been drinking.”

*

Thanks to Charlie at Read Between The Minds for this one.