I am absolutely delighted to inform you that contrary to previous speculation, Sierra Charlie is alive and well. To build on a phrase used by Mark Twain - news of his demise has been greatly exaggerated. From time to time, and when he can be bothered, SC will be appearing on this blog with guest posts. This will continue until he gains more popularity that I, whereupon his demise shall be confirmed.
Or until he asks me to pay him for his articles. Anyway, his guest post will appear on Sunday.
Regardless, all of this reminds me of a joke I once heard.
Cuthbert, now a successful businessman in the big city, decided to return to his hometown to remind him of his roots. He determined to visit the Old Mill where he worked as a youth, and see a friend with whom he toiled for but a pittance.
Arriving in the Old Mill, he asked a labourer if the closest friend from his childhood and adolescence - Dinglebert - still worked there.
"He does, but he's out on his rounds and gone for cotton. Try again tomorrow, I've no idea when he'll return."
Determined to see his old friend and to share a beer, Cuthbert returned the following day and enquired about Dinglebert.
"He's not here Sir. As with yesterday, he's gone for cotton."
Cuthbert, although feeling frustrated, returns again the next day, asking to see his dear friend Dinglebert.
"You've just missed him, he's gone for cotton."
Despite his presence being required in the big city, Cuthbert decides to try one more time, and goes back to the Old Mill.
"Oh, I'm sorry to tell you Sir, but just after you left yesterday we received news that Dinglebert was killed in an accident after he'd gone for cotton. He's been buried just this morning."
Filled with sadness, Cuthbert asks where Dinglebert is buried. He buys some flowers and makes his way to the cemetary to pay his respects. He finds the grave and reads the epitaph on the gravestone.
'Dinglebert. Gone, but not for cotton.'
So, it with great joy that I can say that whilst Sierra Charlie's grave may have been dug, it lies empty, and the inscription on his tombstone presently reads, 'Sierra Charlie. Gone, but not from blogging.'
Or until he asks me to pay him for his articles. Anyway, his guest post will appear on Sunday.
Regardless, all of this reminds me of a joke I once heard.
Cuthbert, now a successful businessman in the big city, decided to return to his hometown to remind him of his roots. He determined to visit the Old Mill where he worked as a youth, and see a friend with whom he toiled for but a pittance.
Arriving in the Old Mill, he asked a labourer if the closest friend from his childhood and adolescence - Dinglebert - still worked there.
"He does, but he's out on his rounds and gone for cotton. Try again tomorrow, I've no idea when he'll return."
Determined to see his old friend and to share a beer, Cuthbert returned the following day and enquired about Dinglebert.
"He's not here Sir. As with yesterday, he's gone for cotton."
Cuthbert, although feeling frustrated, returns again the next day, asking to see his dear friend Dinglebert.
"You've just missed him, he's gone for cotton."
Despite his presence being required in the big city, Cuthbert decides to try one more time, and goes back to the Old Mill.
"Oh, I'm sorry to tell you Sir, but just after you left yesterday we received news that Dinglebert was killed in an accident after he'd gone for cotton. He's been buried just this morning."
Filled with sadness, Cuthbert asks where Dinglebert is buried. He buys some flowers and makes his way to the cemetary to pay his respects. He finds the grave and reads the epitaph on the gravestone.
'Dinglebert. Gone, but not for cotton.'
So, it with great joy that I can say that whilst Sierra Charlie's grave may have been dug, it lies empty, and the inscription on his tombstone presently reads, 'Sierra Charlie. Gone, but not from blogging.'
![Reblog this post [with Zemanta]](http://img.zemanta.com/reblog_e.png?x-id=455fd9e5-1bd4-4efe-abbc-6b647cfa8ade)
That joke is so bad I think I will be using it all weekend on anyone who will listen. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteThat joke is so bad I have just gouged out my eyeballs using a soup spoon. :-)
ReplyDeleteI never said it was a good joke. Did I?
ReplyDeleteI think that was an Aussie joke. It fits their Modus Jokus: I.e. Two blokes working on the windowframes of a skyscraper. One's sat on the windowledge on the 20th floor the other on the ledge of the office below. The One above shouts down to his mate, "Bruce, where's the monkey wrench?". Bruce throws it up and shouts, "Catch". The one above leans out of his window to catch the wrench and as he grabs it he falls out. As he passes Bruce he shouts, "You bastard". ??????
ReplyDeleteI take it Sierra Charlie is another blogging copper? I look forward to his posts
ReplyDeletex
Xenophon - he is, or rather was...or is a ilttle bit still. More of a contributor now.
ReplyDeleteNote to self: When having a beer with Hog Day don't exhange jokes. I never would have thought someone could tell worse ones than me.
ReplyDeleteI refuse to believe that's possible.
ReplyDelete