Tag Archives: Russia

Joke 637

20 Dec

There was once a great czar in Russia named Rudolf the Red.  One day he was looking out of the windows of his palace while his wife, the Czarina Katerina, sat nearby, knitting.

The Czar turned to her and said, “Look my dear, it has begun to rain!”

Without even looking up from her knitting the Czarina replied, “It is too cold to rain. It must be sleeting.”

The Czar shook his head and said, “I am the Czar of all the Russias, and Rudolf the Red knows rain, dear!”

I read this one all over the internet.

Explanations Are In Order, Comrades

6 Sep

It seems that you all don’t think like I think, so here’s an explanation of this morning’s post:

Wheel: a round thing beloved of cavemen.

Horse: around.  Thing beloved of cavemen and women.

Communists: angry people who live together; either all employed (Soviet) or all unemployed (hippies).

Romanovs: murdered Russians related to Prince Philip.

1917: Russian Revolution and Julie Christie rocking a fur hat.

1989: demise of Communism and die-hard (John McCleansky) Communists (hated oligarchs hoarding all the money), making way for rise of Russian Mafia (hated oligarchs hoarding all the money).

Mandy Rice-Davies: slept with Communist and cabinet minister (not at the same time: she is British, after all), bringing down the British government in 1963 (the year I was born.  Coincidence…?).  Famous for:

While giving evidence at the trial of Stephen Ward, charged with living off the immoral earnings of Keeler and Rice-Davies, the latter made a famous riposte. When the prosecuting counsel pointed out that Lord Astor denied an affair or having even met her, she replied, “Well, he would, wouldn’t he?” (often misquoted as “Well he would say that, wouldn’t he?”).[By 1979 this phrase had entered the third edition of the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations.    From Wikipedia

November: eleventh month; less popular than October, which is why the Communists chose it (or not; can’t remember which way round it goes) over November for their revolution.  Ask their calendar, if the Mafia haven’t stolen them all.

Voice off: Robin, of Batman and.

The hood: as in Robin, famous communist of Nottingham fame.  Loves Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio and blows in his ear/as in neighbourhood.


Hope that clears everything up for you!


Christmas Is All About Friensshship

17 Dec

I have a wonderful English friend living in France.  She is kind and beautiful and sophisticated.  She used to ski her children to school in winter; I took extra shoes for mine because of the wild dog poo.  Last Christmas she walked with her family on Christmas Day, taking hot merguez, hot wine, and hot tomato soup.  I had to Google merguez though, in my defence, I had heard of tomato soup.  I didn’t know anyone drank hot wine unless they came from the middle  ages.  This year her Christmas will include foie gras, and she’s not even buying a hamper.  After Christmas she will be spending a week on a boat, 13km from Russia, watching the northern lights.  My Franglais Friend is the kind of woman who drinks wine with lunch without being a lush.  She is the epitome of European elegance.  I am the epitome stomach. 

I mention her because she has just sent me two bottles of my favourite South African pink fizz, JC Le Roux’s La Chanson.  I am not really a drinker – it can take me months to finish a bottle of wine, by which time I’m adding orange juice to it to disguise its flatness and probable offness – but a bottle of La Chanson is usually gone in a couple of days.  One bottle is already in the fridge for Christmas Eve: I always have a tipple as soon as we get back from visiting Dad at the cemetery, as a symbolic gesture of putting sadness behind me and gaiety on the menu.  The other bottle is on standby for New Year – if it lasts that long: I might be very sad this year and be forced to drown my sorrows.

My Christmas is not at all sophisticated.  My house is a temple of Christmas kitsch, but I really don’t care.  I don’t have loads of decorations all over but I do have the children’s home-made decs strung from tinsel on my banister and on my tree.  I have Christmas covers on my cushions and Christmas decals on my windows.  The boys’ huge stockings are already hung up for Santa.  I am an ornament-hater at heart (all that dusting) but my inner housewife bursts out come December 11th and I go quite mad, sprinkling plastic Father Christmas boots (I have three; I think my Santa is related to Jake the Peg) and stuffed reindeer hats all over the show.  Thankfully for my sanity, everything MUST come down on January 2nd because Christmas is over and New Year is over and the clutter is already driving me nuts by December 28th; but I always enjoy my temporary madness, especially when I have my favourite wine to keep me company.

So, dear Franglais Friend: thank you from the bottom of my soon-to-be-tipsy heart.  Hic.

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