Bad Joke Day

It was a day for bad jokes. The little boy on the school bus said:

"'Ave you 'eard teh one about the bus driver? There was this bus driver, you see and he saw this man standing at the bus stop.

He had....

Three eyes.

No arms,

and one leg.

The bus driver stopped, opened the door and said:

Aye, Aye, Aye.

You look 'armless.

Hop on.

Arggghhh. It got worse.

When I stopped off at the Polish shop for my elevenses, buying a paczki (Polish pronunciation pont-ch,ski - a more delicious and slightly different Polish version of a doughnut) and a bottle of kefir (fermented milk), the man at the till said:

"My favourite joke is the one about a woman who goes to the garage with a problem.

'You have a flat battery', said the mechanic.

'Oh dear,' said the woman. 'What shape should it be?'"

I retired to the coach park for some peace. Normally it is a quiet coach park, between the castle and the railway line. My quiet moments could not possibly be disturbed.

They were.

By one of the few Scottish trainspotting, motorbike enthusiast, bus driver. "They call me the Steam Biker," he announced. He was a particularly genial driver, but every time a train past along the track, he identified it by name, number, date, company and whether the wheels had been cleaned recently.

Then his phone rang. "Chuff, chuff, chuff" went the ringtone. "It's the steam engine pulling out of the station somewhere in North Yorkshire. You have to wait for 14 seconds. It gets better. Wait for it......wait." After 14 long seconds, the chuff chuffs were supplemented with whoo whoo.

And with that he disappeared.