Sunday, June 22, 2008

There's An Englishman, A Scotsman And An Irishman — 4,793 Camels And A Masseuse... 4



‘Knock knock.’


‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Knock knock.’

‘Eh?’

‘No — you say who’s there?’

‘Who’s where?’

‘Here.’

‘But I can see who’s here.’

‘Don’t start all that again, just do as I say.’

‘OK. Who’s there?’

‘Not now.’

‘But you just said—’

‘Wait for me to say knock knock first.’

‘OK.’

‘Knock knock.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who’s there?’

‘Althea.’

‘Okay...come on in, Althea.’

‘No — you say Althea Who?

‘Althea who?’

‘Not now.’

‘But—’

‘Let’s start again.’

‘OK.’

‘Knock knock.’

‘Nope. It’s gone. What do I say again?’

‘I say knock knock then you say who’s there? then I say Althea then you say Althea who?

‘And is that it?’

‘No. When you say Althea who?, I deliver the punchline.’

‘What — at the same time?’

‘No, just after.’

‘OK.’

‘So are you ready?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK. Knock knock.’

‘Who’s there?’

‘Althea.’

‘Althea later, alligator.’

‘Althea in a while crocodile.’

‘No — you don’t say anything else.’

‘Sorry. I thought it was funny.’

‘Yes, but my line is the punchline.’

‘It’s not as funny as my line.’

‘Yes, but that’s not how it works.’

‘So what is my line?’

‘You don’t have one.’

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘You’re supposed to laugh.’

‘Ha ha.’

Properly.’

‘Ha ha ha.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I still think my line’s the funniest.’

‘Shut it.’

31 comments:

Kiersten said...

I liked this one.

It reminds me of my favorite knock knock joke. You start.

Whirlochre said...

OK.

Knock knock.

JaneyV said...

Ha! Me likee too.

I remember having a similar(ish) conversation with one of my kids who kept saying "come in!" after every knock! knock!

It took me an embarrassingly long time to realise he was taking the piss...

Whirlochre said...

J

I'm currently doing the rounds of all those contrived jokes where the smallsters of the world trick you into saying things like "I smell" or "pooh pooh pants." Sadly, as a confirmed smell my cheese black belt veteran, I fall for them every time.

JaneyV said...

I remember the hilarity of joke-telling as a kid. Now my heart just sinks if the Big Book of Jokes gets taken on a long car journey!

A joke book is one of those presents (like water pistols and drums) that makes you really popular with kids and really unpopular with their parents.

Kiersten said...

Who's there?

pjd said...

Kiersten, very subtle. I'll use that on my 11 year old. He'll think it's one of the best jokes of all time.

Whirl, highly amusing. I think you and Robin should read THIS together. If that's not possible, then you need to recruit a friend to read this with you.

Whirlochre said...

Whirl.

Whirlochre said...

Hi PJD — nice to see you dropping by.

Kiersten said...

Whirl who?

Renee Collins said...

Hey, good one. You really have a knack for dialogue.

I really want to hear the joke you start in the title of your post. I am quite curious to see how the 4,793 camels come into play.

Whirlochre said...

Whirl who d'ya think? Santa Claus?

Whirlochre said...

Renee

Thanks — I hadn't thought of that.

Kiersten said...

lol, Whirl.

You weren't supposed to come up with something that was actually funny. I shouldn't have expected anything less though.

Whirlochre said...

With 22 hours' worth of spontaneity at my disposal, I'm glad I managed it.

Kiersten said...

I guess it does take some of the pressure off, doesn't it? Not very impromptu.

Still, better than I would have managed.

Whirlochre said...

Somehow I doubt it — you seem to be on fire at the moment.

I'm heading over to EE's later to add my applause to your WE offering.

Kiersten said...

Ah, shucks. Apparently I'm really funny when I write at 1 AM.

Just think of all of the brilliance I've been wasting by sleeping.

Whirlochre said...

No time is particularly good for me at the moment thanks to my geneticically modified hatred of pollen at this time of the year. It's like I've had flu for the past fortnight. I don't mind the sneezing and the itching and the dribbling, but not being able to breathe too well at night is a pain. I'm up at 6 this morning as per usual, attempting to rustle up some WIPly fayre before I hunt and kill a bowl of cereal, and would you believe it, the furthest I've got is opening WordPerfect and loading the relevant document. Mind you, this helps. I've evolved from the cerebral equivalent of a sloth to some sort of reasonably active scurrying insect in a few short minutes. Can I say also — your intense beavering has been a useful inspiration in this time of mucus.

Kiersten said...

Beavering?

And a WordPerfect man! My dad worked on WordPerfect before it was sold and resold and resold again. The day we switched to Word was a sad, sad one.

Kiersten said...

(Also, I spend a lot of timing staring at the open document. And obsessively checking blogs in the middle of chapters.)

Kiersten said...

New title:

A Time of Mucus

It has promise...

(In the middle of a difficult passage...please feel free to ignore me.)

Whirlochre said...

To this day, I have no idea why anyone serious about writing would invite Word onto their computer, let alone use it.

I've used WP since 1989 and it does what I want, brilliantly.

Every time I've used Word, I can't format a thing and when I go looking for features like headings, justification and so on, I've found the menu contains nothing but fripperies. Word 2007 is especially bad. Everything is now only four mouse clicks away.

When those little hobbitses got to Mordor, they ought to have thrown the code for Word into the flames while they were busy with the ring.

Kiersten said...

I changed my mind; maybe you *should* hang out with my dad while he's in England.

But you didn't explain what beavering is?

Whirlochre said...

I'm just about to get down to a Girl Crying scene. It'll be a struggle not to make it melodramatic.

Whirlochre said...

Beavering refers to a period of intense activity. If you're 'beavering away' at a project, you resemble (metaphorically) a beaver, fetching and carrying and fetching and carrying and building and building and building till the dam is finished.

Kiersten said...

True. And you've never been a girl crying, either. I find the shower is the best place to have a meltdown. No evidence.

Kiersten said...

Ah. Yes, me and my dam project.

(Ha!)

Whirlochre said...

It's said that evil wizards relish a good sob. Drinking their own tears increases their powers — especially if they only shed a single one.

Kiersten said...

Being neither evil nor a wizard, crying usually just leaves me drained. And it gives me a headache.

Well, finished the dream sequence. Good luck with your crying one. I think I'll pass on whatever brilliant wit 1 AM promises in favor of sleeping.

Whirlochre said...

Happy snoozing.

May your nostrils ripple like manta rays with snores of joyful repose.