A Yorkshire man takes his cat to the vet. Yorkshireman: "Ayup, lad, I need to talk to thee about me cat." Vet: "Is it a tom?" Yorkshireman: "Nay, I've browt it with us."
A Yorkshireman's dog dies and as it was a favourite pet he decides to have a gold statue made by a jeweller to remember the dog by.
Yorkshireman: "Can tha mek us a gold statue of yon dog?"
Jeweller: "Do you want it 18 carat?"
Yorkshireman: "No I want it chewin' a bone yer daft bugger!"
Bolton by birth,
Irish by blood,
LEYTHER by heart and soul!!
BBC Sport wrote:
30/04/06 "Some of W*gan's travelling fans headed towards the exit before it was even over.".................no change there then!!
Wembley71 wrote:
.....They are our people. Drummond, Costello, Manfredi, Svabic, Martyn, Street, Tickle, Patel, Mossop, Horo, Bristow, Leuleui, Varley, Fleary, Rivett, Tabern, Doran, Woods, Donlan, Wilshire, Leaefa, Hansen, Sale, Murphy… these are all my people. As a Leyther, you’re one of us the moment you come here to wear the shirt. I don't care where you were born, what colour you are, what religion you are, what language you speak. You're one of us, part of our culture, writing our history as you create your own, and making us stronger for it....
A Yorkshire man takes his cat to the vet. Yorkshireman: "Ayup, lad, I need to talk to thee about me cat." Vet: "Is it a tom?" Yorkshireman: "Nay, I've browt it with us."
A Yorkshireman's dog dies and as it was a favourite pet he decides to have a gold statue made by a jeweller to remember the dog by.
Yorkshireman: "Can tha mek us a gold statue of yon dog?"
Jeweller: "Do you want it 18 carat?"
Yorkshireman: "No I want it chewin' a bone yer daft bugger!"
Yorkshireman goes to the doctors as his 'rear-end' is giving him trouble! The doctor examines him and says: "It would appear you are suffering from piles. Now I could prescribe something for you, but as I know you are - how shall I put this? - a fan of a bargain, I'd say you'd be better off just asking the chemist for an 'over the counter' remedy.....there are a number of ointments available that will ease your troubles!"
The chap nips across the road to the chemist.
"Ey up lad - as tha got any arse cream?"
"We have Sir" came the reply "You'll find them in that cabinet on you left - we've got Magnums, Cornettos, screwballs........."
Bolton by birth,
Irish by blood,
LEYTHER by heart and soul!!
BBC Sport wrote:
30/04/06 "Some of W*gan's travelling fans headed towards the exit before it was even over.".................no change there then!!
Wembley71 wrote:
.....They are our people. Drummond, Costello, Manfredi, Svabic, Martyn, Street, Tickle, Patel, Mossop, Horo, Bristow, Leuleui, Varley, Fleary, Rivett, Tabern, Doran, Woods, Donlan, Wilshire, Leaefa, Hansen, Sale, Murphy… these are all my people. As a Leyther, you’re one of us the moment you come here to wear the shirt. I don't care where you were born, what colour you are, what religion you are, what language you speak. You're one of us, part of our culture, writing our history as you create your own, and making us stronger for it....
A Yorkshireman' s wife dies and the widower decides that her headstone should only contain her name, the dates of her birth and death, and the simple epitaph "Lord, she were thine" engraved on it. He calls the stone mason, who assures him that the headstone will be ready a few days after the funeral. True to his word the stone mason calls the widower to say that the headstone is ready and would he like to come and have a look. When the widower gets there he takes one look at the stone to see that it's been engraved "Lord, she were thin." "You bluddy fool - you've left the 'e' out!!" The stone mason apologises and assures the poor widower that it will be rectified immediately, and, by way of an apology, they shall install the headstone at his late wife's grave at no extra charge. A few days later the stonemason phones to say the stone is now corrected, and has been installed. The Yorkshireman hot-foots it over to the cemetary to take a look. He finds the plot, and gazes upon the headstone.....which now reads "E Lord, she were thin".
'when my life is over, the thing which will have given me greatest pride is that I was first to plunge into the sea, swimming freely underwater without any connection to the terrestrial world'
An old man is walking down the street one afternoon when he sees a woman with perfect breasts.
He says to her, "Hey miss, would you let me bite your breasts for £100?"
"Are you nuts?!" she replies, and keeps walking away.
He turns around, runs around the block and gets to the corner before she does. "Would you let me bite your breasts for £1,000?" he asks again.
"Listen you; I'm not that kind of woman! Got it?"
So the little old man runs around the next block and faces her again, "Would you let me bite your breasts - just once - for £10,000?!"
She thinks about it for a while and says, "Hmmmmm, £10,000... Ok, just once, but not here. Let's go to that dark alley over there."
So they go into the alley, where she takes off her blouse to reveal the most perfect breasts in the world.
As soon as he sees them, he grabs them and starts caressing them, fondling them slowly, kissing them, licking them, burying his face in them - but not biting them.
The woman finally gets annoyed and asks, 'Well? Are you gonna bite them or not?'
"Nah," says the little old man... "Costs too much!"
Current thoughts - Mago out or get running up them plantations, get fit or get rid. Maybe a back up halfback, someone with a bit of experience on a short term deal. Big tall strong running second rower, like a McMeekin or Sironen type back rower.