New Zealand Shoppers

Two Kiwis, Trevor and Jeanette, are walking down a street in Bondi.
Trevor happens to look in one of the shop windows and sees a sign that catches his eye. The sign said 'Suits $10.00 each, Shirts $4.00 each, Trousers $5.00 per pair'

Trevor says to his pal, ' Jeanette, look! We could buy a whole lot of those, and whin we get beck to InZid, we could make a fortune.

Now whin we go unto the shop, you be quiet, okay? Just lit me do all the talking cause uf they hear our accint, they might not be nice to us. I'll speak in my bist Aussie accint.'

'No worries, smiled Jeanette, I'll keep my mouth shut.'

They go in and Trevor says, 'I'll take fufty suits et $10.00 each, 100 shirts et $4.00 each, and fufty pairs of trousers et $5.00 each. I'll beck up my truck and...'

The owner of the shop interrupts, 'You're from New Zealand, aren't you?'

'Well... Yis,' says a surprised Trevor. 'How the hill dud you know thet?'

The owner says, 'This is a dry cleaners'.

Irish Golfer ( Mayor ofJotown)

An Aussie golfer playing in Ireland hooked his drive into the woods.

Looking for his ball, he found a little Leprechaun flat on his back, a big bump on his head and the golfer's ball beside him. Horrified, the golfer got his water bottle from the cart and poured it over the little guy, reviving him.

"Arrgh! What happened?" the Leprechaun asked. "Oh, I see. Well, ye got me fair and square. Ye get three wishes, so whaddya want?"

"Thank God, you're all right!" the golfer answers in relief "I don't want anything. I'm just glad you're OK, and I apologize. I really didn't mean to hit you." And the golfer walks off.

What a nice guy," the Leprechaun says to himself. "But it was fair and square that he got me, and I have to do something for him. I'll give him the three things I would want...a great golf game, all the money he ever needs, and a fantastic sex life."

A year goes by (as it does in stories like this) and the Australian golfer is back. On the same hole, he again hits a bad drive into the woods and the Leprechaun is there waiting for him.

"Twas me that made ye hit the ball here," the little guys says. "I just want to ask ye, how's yer golf game?"

"My game is fantastic!" the golfer answers. "In fact, that's the first bad ball I've hit in a year! I'm an internationally famous golfer now." He adds, "By the way, it's good to see you're all right."

"Oh, I'm fine now, thankee. I did that fer yer golf game, you know. And tell me, how's yer money situation?"

"Why, it's just wonderful!" the golfer states. "I win fortunes in golf. If I need cash, I just reach in my pocket and pull out $100.00 bills I didn't even know they were there!"

"I did that fer ye also. And tell me, how's yer sex life?"

The golfer blushes, turns his head away in embarrassment, and says shyly, It's OK."

"C'mon, c'mon now," urged the Leprechaun, "I'm wanting to know if I did a good job. How many times a day?"

Blushing even more, the golfer looks around then whispers, "Once, sometimes twice a week."

"What??" responds the Leprechaun in shock. "That's all? Only once or twice a week?"

"Well," says the golfer, "I figure that's not bad for a Catholic priest in a small parish."

Submitted by Sr. Wink, Younkers, NY

Talking Australian clock (mayor of Pie Corner)

The big maori was proudly showing off his new apartment to some friends after a hard night out drinking.
He had a few too many drinks, and was getting pretty vocal.
They reached the bedroom where the friends were surprised to see a huge gong hanging next to the bed.
'What's that big brass gong for?' one of the friend's asked.
'Issss nod a gong. Issss a talking Australian clock' the maori replied.
'A talking Australian clock - seriously?'
'Yup.' 'Hmmm (hic).'
'How's it work?' the second friend asked, squinting at it.
'Just watch' he said.
He picked up a hammer, gave the gong an 'ear-shattering bash' and stepped back.
His three mates stood looking at one another for a moment in astounded silence.
Suddenly, an Australian voice from the other side of the wall screamed,
'For f*#k's sake, you stupid pri*#. It's ten past three in the f*#king morning !!!'

Work Wanted

A bloke goes into the employment office in Brisbane for a look through the job vacancies, which doesn't take him very long, of course.

Just as he's about to give up and go away, he spots something.

"Wanted", it says. "Single man, willing to travel, must have own scissors. $1,500 a week guaranteed, plus company car and all expenses."

Well, it sounds a bit too good to be true, so the bloke makes a note of the reference number and fronts up at the counter.

"I'd like to apply for this job", he says, "reference number E/784/B46-OP17372D2."

Oh, that one," says the clerk. "It's a model agency right here in Brisbane.
They're looking for a pubic hair snipper.
You see, they supply girls who model underwear and bathers, and before they go on the catwalk they report to you and you have to snip off any wisps of pubic hair that are showing.
It pays well, but there are a few drawbacks.
It involves quite a lot of travel - The Bahamas, Tahiti, Paris, London, that sort of thing,
and you have to get used to living in first-class hotels........"

"I reckon I could learn to live with it," says the bloke. "I'd really like to apply for the job."

The clerk shrugs and says, "OK, here's an application form and a bus ticket to Hervey Bay".

"Hervey Bay?" exclaims the bloke. "Hervey-Bloody-Bay?
What do I wanna go to Hervey Bay for?"

"Well", says the clerk, "that's where the end of the queue is at the moment."

Life in the Australian Army...

Text of a letter from a kid from Eromanga to Mum and Dad.
(For Those of you not in the know, Eromanga is a small town, west of Quilpie in the far south west of Queensland )

Dear Mum & Dad,
I am well. Hope youse are too.

Tell me big brothers Doug and Phil that the Army is better than workin' on the farm - tell them to get in bloody quick smart before the jobs are all gone!

I wuz a bit slow in settling down at first, because ya don't hafta get outta bed until 6am. But I like sleeping in now, cuz all ya gotta do before brekky is make ya bed and shine ya boots and clean ya uniform.

No bloody cows to milk, no calves to feed, no feed to stack - nothin'!! Ya haz gotta shower though, but its not so bad, coz there's lots a hot water and even a light to see what ya doing!

At brekky ya get cereal, fruit and eggs but there's no kangaroo steaks or possum stew like wot Mum makes. You don't get fed again until noon and by that time all the city boys are buggered because we've been on a 'route march' - geez its only just like walking to the windmill in the back paddock!!

This one will kill me brothers Doug and Phil with laughter. I keep getting medals for shootin' - dunno why. The bullseye is as big as a bloody possum's bum and it don't move and it's not firing back at ya like the Johnsons did when our big scrubber bull got into their prize cows before the Ekka last year! All ya gotta do is make yourself comfortable and hit the target - it's a piece of piss!! You don't even load your own cartridges they comes in little boxes and ya don't have to steady yourself against the rollbar of the roo shooting truck when you reload!

Sometimes ya gotta wrestle with the city boys and I gotta be real careful coz they break easy - it's not like fighting with Doug and Phil and Jack and Boori and Steve and Muzza all at once like we do at home after the muster.

Turns out I'm not a bad boxer either and it looks like I'm the best the platoon's got, and I've only been beaten by this one bloke from the Engineers - he's 6 foot 5 and 15 stone and three pick handles across the shoulders and as ya know I'm only 5 foot 7 and eight stone wringin' wet, but I fought him till the other blokes carried me off to the boozer.

I can't complain about the Army - tell the boys to get in quick before word gets around how bloody good it is.

Your loving daughter,
Sheila

Use the gold phone

An American Decided to write a book about famous churches around the world.

So he bought a plane ticket and took a trip to Orlando , thinking that he would start by working his way across the USA from South to North.

On his first day he was inside a church taking photographs when he noticed a golden telephone mounted on the wall with a sign that read '$10,000 per call'.

The American, being intrigued, asked a priest who was strolling by what the telephone was used for.

The priest replied that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 you could talk to God.

The American thanked the priest and went along his way.

Next stop was in Atlanta .. There, at a very large cathedral, he saw the same golden telephone with the same sign under it.

He wondered if this was the same kind of telephone he saw in Orlando and he asked a nearby nun what its purpose was. She told him that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 he could talk to God.

'O.K., thank you,' said the American .

He then travelled all across America, Europe, England, Japan, New Zealand.

In every church he saw the same golden telephone with the same '$US10,000 per call' sign under it.

The American, decided to travel to Australia to see if Australians had the same phone.

He arrived on the Sunshine Coast, in Australia and again, in the first church he entered, there was the same golden telephone, but this time the sign under it read '40 cents per call.'

The American was surprised so he asked the priest about the sign. 'Father, I've traveled all over the world and I've seen this same golden telephone in many churches. I'm told that it is a direct line to Heaven, but in all of them price was $10,000 per call. Why is it so cheap here?'

The priest smiled and answered, 'You're in Australia now, son - it's a local call'.

Diets and Dying

The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British, Australians or Americans.

The French eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British, Australians or Americans.

The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than British, Australians or Americans.

The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British, Australians or Americans.

The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British, Australians or Americans.

CONCLUSION:

Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.