25.6.03:

New Venue. Shops today (Thursday June 26). Good read. Has things in it like;

DRINK!!! - FANTASTIC FREE 40-page guide to the west's best summery drinking-spots. More country pubs than ever! Bristol and Bath's best bars and boozers! Aaahhhhhh! I needed that!

FESTY FUN FEVER - Missing Glasto? Never mind, there's always St Pauls & Ashton Court. We got a special report.

COUNCIL CAPERS - SO then ... How long do we give Bristol City Council's three-party administration?

PLUS ... 'Nicholas Nickleby'; Priddy Folk Fayre; The Funk Boat; Tewkesbury Medieval Festival AND your complete guide to what's for fun in Bristol and Bath this weekend, next weekend and every day in between.

So don't miss out - place a regular order (for Venue) with your newsagent now or we and everyone else who failed to get a Glastonbury ticket will come over to yours, climb over the fence and hold a festival in your back yard. With tents and toilets and bands and vegetarian samosas and all.

Jokes, how do you expect me to keep jokes in this weather? Oh allright then,

A guy falls asleep on the beach for several hours and gets a horrible sunburn. He goes to the hospital and is promptly admitted after being diagnosed with second degree burns. He was already starting to blister and was in agony. The doctor prescribed continuous intravenous feeding with saline and electrolytes, a sedative, and a Viagra pill every four hours.
The nurse, rather astounded, said, "What good will Viagra do him?"
The doctor replied, "It'll keep the sheets off his legs."
(Thanks Pam)

C'est Samedi après-midi et les parents ont une sacre envie de "...."
Malheureusement pour eux, le petit Pierre-Louis est dans l'appartement et comme il risque de pleuvoir, les parents ne préfèrent pas qu'il sorte.
Alors le papa trouve la solution. "Pierre-Louis, pourquoi n'irais-tu pas sur le balcon? Comme ça tu nous raconteras tout ce qui se passe en bas!"
Pierre-Louis va sur le balcon et commence son observation. Pendant ce temps, les parents passent aux choses sérieuses très discrètement. Pierre-Louis commente ce qu'il voit: "Il y a une voiture qui se fait remorquer par une dépanneuse dans le parking... Tiens, une ambulance vient de passer à toute vitesse... Il y a des gens qui rendent visite aux voisins d'à côté... "
Un moment passe puis Pierre-Louis reprend: "Lili fait du vélo sur le trottoir... un chien traverse la route... Tiens les Martin sont en train de baiser... "
A ces mots, les parents de Pierre-Louis sursautent et le papa drôlement interloqué demande: "Et comment tu sais ça Pierre-Louis?"
"Parce que leur fils aussi est sur le balcon...!"
(Merci Marie. Voilà la premiere blague en Francais qu'on nous a envoyé. Translate it yourself if you want to get through French GCSE. If not, you have the Spam Department’s amateur effort at the very end of this mailing.*)

A dog walks into a post office and goes up to the clerk at the counter and says "Excuse me I would like to send a telegram please."
The clerk somewhat taken aback says "certainly er....Sir, what would you like it to say?"
The dog replies "could you please send the following message. Woof woof woof, woof woof. Woof woof woof woof."
The clerk makes a note, does a quick calculation and says "That's a total of nine words, you can have up to ten for the same price. Would you like to add another woof?"
The dog snaps back indignantly "Don't be so ridiculous, that wouldn't make any sense at all!"
(Thanks Thomas)

A guy walks into a bar somewhere in the deepest rural Somerset and orders a white wine. Everybody sitting around the bar looks up, expecting to see some yuppy city type. The landlord looks up and says, "Not from round these parts, are you? Where are you from?"
The guy says, "I'm from London."The landlord asks, "What brings you here, then?"
The guy responds, "I'm a taxidermist."The landlord asks, "A taxidermist? Woss a taxidermist do then?"The guy says nervously, "I mount animals."
The landlord grins and shouts out to the whole pub, "S'allright lads! He'm one of us!"
(Thanks Roger)

An elderly Liverpudlian woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled prior to a trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded, "Rome?" Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded & dirty and full of Italians. You're crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?"
"We're taking British Airways." was the reply. "We got a great rate!"
"BA!" exclaimed the hairdresser. "That's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?"
"We'll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome's left bank called Teste..."
"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump, the worst hotel in the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly and they're overpriced. So, whatcha doing when you get there?"
"We're going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope."
"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser. "You and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You're going to need it."
A month later, the woman again came in for a hairdo. The hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome.
"It was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time in one of British Airways' brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel -- it was great! They'd just finished a $5 million remodeling job and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!"
"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "that's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope."
"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me."
"Oh, really...What'd he say?"
"He said, 'Where'd you get that f*c&k$n awful hairdo?'"
(Cheers Dawn. You win this issue's star prize of two forgettable chick-lit novels. Send us an address if you want 'em)

The Spam department is taking a well-deserved holiday next week, but we'll be back to irritate you again the week after. Meanwhile, please send jokes. We desperately need them. Please keep them non-sweary and free of any references to bodily functions as we need to keep the spam clean to get past corporate servers and annoy our customers in their workplaces. The best joke each week wins a prize. The next prize will be a George Benson CD AND one by Danii Minogue. Or Stargate SG1 - the Illustrated Companion to Seasons 5 and 6. You want to win some o' that, dontcha?

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Get the lights on the way out, will ya? You might want to take a look at these, first.

This is brilliant! Specially if you have broadband. Tell everyone about it! Some of the world's worst music! Would you rather listen to William Shatner's 'Rocket Man' or would you prefer to stick red-hot needles into your lips? Tough call. We especially recommend the native American lady who yodels for Jesus:
http://www.otisfodder.com/365days/365archive.html

Want to buy a penguin? Then go here
http://www.penguinwarehouse.com

Those whacky Christians are at it again. This is a great laugh.
http://www.shipoffools.com/theark/

And there's a new edition of That Be Bristle out this week:
http://www.thatbebristle.co.uk

Cheers then.

(* That translation in full: Pierre-Louis's mum and dad want to spend some quality time together but can't send him out to play as it's going to rain, so Dad tells him to stand on the balcony and give them a running commentary on what he sees outside. He tells them what he sees as they get down to business but dad jumps up with a start when Pierre-Louis says the neighbours are “at it” (the actual expression used is much more coarse). How do you know? says Papa. Because their son has also been sent out onto the balcony. At least I think that's what it says.)

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