ben trovato offers the following refreshment:
There was once an idealistic male who swore that he would only marry the perfect woman.
Over many years and in many lands, he searched in vain. He met hundreds of charming, attractive, even seductive, women but none of them met his basic requirement.
This was that the perfect woman would serve his tea exactly as he liked it. When he was offered this homely beverage, he always said: “Just half a cup, please.” But the ladies always handed him a full cup regardless.
At long last, and in mellow middle age, he encountered a truly delightful matronly personage who possessed all the attributes for the ideal spouse. She shared his tastes in almost everything, and was a wonderful cook. Scarcely daring to hope that his long-cherished dream was about to come true, the Idealist asked for a cup of tea.
“How do you like it?” the lady asked. “Milk? Sugar? Lemon?”
“Just half a cup, please” he replied.
Almost trembling, he watched her pour out exactly half a cup. He reached his hand out to take it.
“Oh bother”, the Perfect Wife-to-Be exclaimed. “The pot’s run dry!”
42 comments:
Moral?. Put lots of milk in first.
Then, any woman seems perfect.
Tasteless.
Pour boiling tea on his bllx.
That will teach the mothas to 'Do-it-themselves'............
They all seem all too capable of that.
If that is the case, why do they need your telephonic guidance?
They are lazy..........
and I am Woman and I know all things.
And I am better than man.
Some of them need telescopic lens....
Good for Ben !!
yes, well..all boys together,huh?
Enough said.......
Was that 'telescopic lenses' or 'telescopic lens'?
There is a big difference, you know.
I can assure you there are very few 'big differences'.
Lies...all lies.
So, what is the perfect man, my little Faberge Egg?.
That's opening a can of worms.
And ain't that the truth.........
and the lines are open now.........
Now, Now, Ladies and Gents, this behind-the-bike-sheds bickering is not the burrow's cup of tea at all.
You will all be reported to Judge anticant for a reprimand when he returns from sipping Earl Grey with the Lady from Crewe.
By Order
There was a young man of Darjeeling
Who had a peculiar feeling
When lavenderblue
Told him what to do
To float himself up to the ceiling.
A TEA-BAG, Mr Worthing? The brand is immaterial!
I was once told of someone who kept over 50 different kinds of tea in their kitchen, which my informant quaintly regarded as the height of sophistication.
Was there a dormouse in the Nearly-Perfect Woman's teapot?
BWI - erm..are you still having your ..strange dreams........?
Gordon Brown sprawled naked in a bed.......?
There was an Old Man of Dumbree,
Who taught little Owls to drink Tea;
For he said, " To eat mice
Is not proper or nice,"
That amiable Man of Dumbree.
( Edward Lear, to save you dashing to Wikiwotsit .)
It's getting worse than that, LB.
Yet, remembering Anticant's 'cousin test', I'd better stop there.
Besides, all those brown packages - which you referred to earlier - I've got them to attend to.
BWI........can I be of any assistance in your dreams..........!!!
Tea could help, LB. Apparently.
Mr Brooke, of Brooke Bond fame, once peddled the stuff by claiming it promotes "social intercourse."
To think, the fellow Ben tells us about only wanted it by halves.
AHH....Tea.........
Judge Anticant is having it with The Lady from Crewe.........
" her tea she sweetens, as she sips, with scandal......."
Oh - and BWI - I've just blown your cover on Pikey's by revealing your dream...........
I only found a not-quite-Edward Lear, LB.
There was a young lady of Tottenham
Who'd no manners or else she'd forgotten 'em
At tea at the vicar's
She tore off her knickers
Because, she explained, she felt 'ot in 'em
Try digesting that for Readers' Condense. Nanight.
BWI ......
Wonderful !!
Oooooooooh, we'll all be up before the Beak tomorrow ( today )
It is soon time to form a union for the protection of knicker-lovers before that beadle drops em all in the mood of droops and groans.
I fear the lash.
Not sure what tea of women has to do with this I suspect that was just another Anticant red herring.
Red herring or red flannel?
Judge anticant is occupied elsewhere this morning [in the vicinity of Crewe].
The burrow Court has been convened for this afternoon.
I have been instructed to dust off the stocks.
By Order
It seems to me that the idealistic male would have had a great deal more luck and happiness in his life if he'd just had a bigger cup.
Would that an A, a B or even a D cup me old Szwagi?
:o)
"Anything more than a mouthful is wasted", zola.
You squirt you
"You squirt you"
Does he, Zola?
Tasteless.
More creamy topping ?
At a burrow court session held this afternoon, lavenderblue was charged with riotous and disorderly behaviour within the burrow precincts.
The Burrow Beadle alleged that the said person had burst into the burrow and disrupted a genteel tea party by waving her knickers around and shouting “All men are milksops” and “Only wimmin know how to make a strong brew”.
Called in evidence, Barnacle Bill said that LB’s behaviour had opened a can of worms. Mr Porter said that the defendant had unduly stimulated a young man from Darjeeling with suggestive telephone messages. Lady Bracknell testified that she had been morally polluted by the defendant’s vivid fantasies of a nude Chancellor of the Exchequer, and shocked by the defendant’s insinuation that Judge anticant was canoodling with the Infamous Lady from Crewe.
In her own defence, lavenderblue said that she had, as usual, been led astray by the provocations of Zola. She admitted to a fiery past as a bra-burner, but denied that she was an inveterate knicker-waver. She pleaded diminished responsibility.
Judge anticant ruled that the defendant was guilty of frivolous misconduct. She would not, on this occasion, be placed in the stocks, but was given a suspended sentence: if she was found guilty of any future offence, she would be suspended by a frayed rope above a can of worms.
The Judge warned that any future display of red flannel knickers in the burrow would be regarded as a red rag to the Beadle, who would clap the culprits into the stocks immediately.
Off with her head !!!.
Off with her knickers!!!!
Be off, you lewd lot.
By Order
I thank Your Lordship for his inestimable knowledge of those of the telephonic fraternity and his indulgence of those who are, somewhat, less than pure. Crewe is indeed a can of worms for the uninitiated, and Your lordship has, indeed, negotiated, with admirable fervour, the rapids of modern Lavatorially Bloo graffitti as espoused by the defendant.
Her-a-Culpa
Hic.
Q. What made Nan twitch?
A. Being banished to Crewe with lavenderblue.
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