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The chicken crossed the road to buy 'Chicken Farm Simulator' TM. A Hifly Productions sim for retired airline pilots, available now at Woolworths.


Nice one John. :thum::rofl: 

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It all depends on your own point of view :D 


Letter from an Australian Cattle Station Pilot to a local Member of Parliament,

I am writing to you because I need your help to get me bloody pilot's license back. You keep telling me you got all the right contacts. Well now's your chance to make something happen for me because, mate, I'm bloody desperate.

But first, I'd better tell you what happened during my last flight review with the CAA Examiner.

On the phone, Ron (that's the CAA d*#"head), seemed a reasonable sort of a bloke. He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He even offered to drive out, have a look over my property and let me operate from my own strip. Naturally I agreed to that.

Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday. First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane on a small strip outside my homestead, because the "ALA"(Authorized Landing Area), is about a mile away. I explained that because this strip was so close to the homestead, it was more convenient than the "ALA," and despite the power lines crossing about midway down the strip, it's really not a problem to land and take-off, because at the halfway point down the strip you're usually still on the ground.

For some reason Ron, seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flight inspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again.

Because the pr*ck was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three times instead of my usual two.

My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's cheeks. In fact, they went a bright red. In view of Ron's obviously better mood, I told him I was going to combine the test flight with some farm work, as I had to deliver three "poddy calves" from the home paddock to the main herd. After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the back of the ol' Cessna 172. We climbed aboard but Ron, started getting onto me about weight and balance calculations and all that crap. Of course I knew that sort of thing was a waste of time because calves, like to move around a bit particularly when they see themselves 500-feet off the ground! So, it's bloody pointless trying to secure them as you know.

However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel set on neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages throughout the flight. Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimized the warm-up time by tramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500 RPM. I then discovered that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a bloody headset. Through all that noise he detected a metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector can't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's jammed on "All tanks," so I suppose that's Ok. However, as Ron was obviously a nit-picker, I blamed the noise on vibration from a stainless steel thermos flask which I keep in a beaut little possie between the windshield and the magnetic compass. My explanation seemed to relax Ron, because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. I released the brakes to taxi out, but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the right. "Hell" I thought," not the starboard wheel chock again." The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked around just in time to see a rock thrown by the prop-wash disappear completely through the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "Now I'm really in trouble," I thought..

While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that we taxi to the "A LA," and instead took off under the power lines.

Ron didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at the lift off point, and then he bloody screamed his head off.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!"

"Now take it easy Ron," I told him firmly. "That often happens on take-off and there is a good reason for it." I explained patiently that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons of super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit but in general it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly. Anyway, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my test flight.

He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer. (I didn't think anyone was a Catholic these days) I selected some nice music on the HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile, I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500-feet. I don't normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because, as you know getting FAX access out here is a friggin' joke and the weather is always "8/8 blue" anyway.

But since I had that near miss with a Saab 340, I might have to change me thinking on that. Anyhow, on levelling out, I noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate bloody camels, and always carry a loaded 303, clipped inside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of the bastards.

We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle out, the effect on Ron, was friggin electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo He really looked as if he had been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power. In fact, Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about the shooting (probably one of those pinko animal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem with the tyre. Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence, I pulled on full flaps, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,500-feet down to 500-feet at 130, knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushed up to the red area on me ASI. What a buzz, mate!

About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves gracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment to Ron on this unusual sight, but he looked a bit green and had rolled himself into the fetal position and was screaming' his 'freakin' head off.

Mate, talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should've been there, it was so bloody funny! At about 500-feet I levelled out, but for some reason we kept sinking.

When we reached 50-feet, I applied full power but nothing happened. No noise no nothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying "carb heat, carb heat." So I pulled carb heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me tell you!

Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. You would have been really proud of me as I didn't panic once, not once, but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a while now). Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His mouth opened very wide, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him, "we'll be out of this in a minute" Sure enough, about a minute later we emerged, still straight and level and still at 50-feet. Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself, "I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxiing." This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which I had to do a half roll to get upright again.

By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip between them. "Ah!" I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there."

Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that I cut it's circuit breaker to shut it up. But by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. I turned steeply onto a 75-foot final and put her down with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!

Halfway through our third loop, Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it. He couldn't stop.

We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow. I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut wrenching fits of laughter, Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the homestead.

It was then that Ron, really lost the plot and started running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it? I saw him running off into the distance, arms flailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter.

I later heard that he had been confined to a psychiatric institution - poor bugger!

Anyhow mate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I got this letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiency test. Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what else I did that was a so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me flaming' license. Can you?


Ralph H. Bell
Mud Creek Station



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Nice One Brett it took me a good 15 mins to read it all. As I was crying :cray: with laughter.It reminds me of my first driving test. :stars:

Cheers Mike

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A man walks out to the street and immediately catches a taxi, just about to go by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, "What perfect timing. You're just like Frank."


Passenger: "Who?"


Cabbie: "Frank Feldman... he did everything right, every time. Like my coming along just when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time."


Passenger: "Everybody has some problems."


Cabbie: "Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand-Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like Pavarotti, and danced like Astaire. And you should have heard him play the piano!"


Passenger: "Sounds like he was really special."


Cabbie: "Oh hell there's more. He remembered everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order, and which fork to eat it with. And whatever broke, he could fix it -- Frank Feldman, he could do everything right."


Passenger: "Wow, what a guy!"


Cabbie: "PLUS -- Frank really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel special. He would never argue back, even if she was in the wrong and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! He NEVER made a mistake! No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman!"


Passenger: "What an amazing fellow. How did you meet him?"


Cabbie: "Well... I never actually met Frank. He died, and I married his wife."

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The UK Government has said that Scotland could end up as a Third World country if they vote for independence.

I don't know if things will improve to that extent, but you never know.  :whis:

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An old man is on his death bed and wants to be buried with his money.


He calls his priest, his doctor and his lawyer to his bedside.


"Here's $30,000 cash to be held by each of you. I trust you to put this in my coffin when I die so I can take all my money with me."


At the funeral, each man put an envelope into the coffin.


Riding away in a limousine, the priest suddenly breaks into tears and confesses: "I put only $20,000 into the envelope because I needed $10,000 to repair the roof of the church."


"Well, since we're confiding in each other," says the doctor, "I only put $10,000 in the envelope because we needed a new X-ray machine for the pediatrics ward at the hospital which cost $20,000."


The lawyer is aghast. "I'm ashamed of both of you," he exclaims. "I want it known that when I put my envelope in that coffin, I enclosed a cheque for the full $30,000."


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Alex Salmond was visiting a Scottish primary school and the class was in the middle of a discussion related to words and their meanings.


The teacher asked Mr. Salmond if he would like to lead the discussion on the word 'Tragedy'.


So the illustrious SNP leader asked the class for an example of a 'Tragedy'.


A little boy stood up and offered, "If ma best freen, wha’ lives on a ferm, is playin' in the field and a tractor rins ower him and kills him, that wid be a tragedy."


"Incorrect", said Alex, in his best trying-not-to-sound-too-patronising-Scottish-accent, "That would be an accident."


A little girl raised her hand, "If a school bus kerryin' fifty children drove ow’r a cliff, killing a'body inside, that wid be a tragedy"


'I'm afraid not', explained Alex, "that's what we would refer to as a great loss’’.


The room went silent. No other children volunteered. Alex searched the room.


"Isn't there someone here who can give me an example of a tragedy?"


Finally, at the back of the room, a wee lad raised his hand and, in a quiet voice, said: "If a plane kerryin' you and your deputy ' wiz struck by a 'freendly fire' missile & blawn tae smithereens, that wid be a tragedy."


"Fantastic!" exclaimed Alex, "and can you tell me why that would be a tragedy?"


"Weel", says the lad, "it has tae be a tragedy, because it certainly widnae be a great loss, and it probably widnae be an accident either!"


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Perhaps if we were all to e-mail the text of the US Constitution to one another, the NSA would finally read it.



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A powerful Japanese emperor needs a new chief samurai, so he sends out a declaration throughout the entire known world that he is searching for a chief. A year passes and only three people apply for the very demanding position, a Japanese samurai, a Chinese samurai and a Jewish samurai.


The emperor asks the Japanese samurai to come in and demonstrate why he should be the chief. The samurai opens a matchbox and out pops a bumblebee. He swings his sword. The bumblebee drops dead, chopped in half.

The emperor exclaims, "That is very impressive!"


He then issues the same challenge to the Chinese samurai who opens his matchbox and out buzzes a fly. The sword flies - whoosh, whoosh. The fly drops dead, chopped into four small pieces.


The emperor exclaims, "That is very very impressive!"


Now the emperor turns to the Jewish samurai and asks him to demonstrate why he should be the chief. The Jewish samurai opens his matchbox and out flies a gnat. His flashing sword swings at the gnat but the gnat is still alive.


The emperor, obviously disappointed, says, "Very ambitious but why is that gnat not dead?"


The Jewish samurai smiles and says, "Circumcision is not fatal."

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Now that I'm older I thought it was great that I seemed to have more patience... it turns out that I just don't give a sh*t.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Q: What's the best form of birth control after age 50?

A: Nudity

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

You know why a woman's work is never done?

They don't get up early enough.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Did you know that dolphins are so smart that within a few weeks in captivity, the can train people to stand on the very edge of the pool and throw them fish?

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing and the lawn mower is broken.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

When you think about it, God has to be the best inventor of all time. He took a rib from Adam and made a loudspeaker.

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My wife said, "What are you doing today?"

I said, "Nothing."

She said, "You did that yesterday."

I said, "I wasn't finished."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

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What is a Yankee?

The same as a quickie, but a guy can do it alone.


What is the difference between a Harley and a Hoover ?

On a Hoover, there's only one dirt bag. Also, a Hoover doesn't leak oil.


Why is divorce so expensive?

Because it's worth it.


What do you call a smart blonde?

A golden retriever.


What do lawyers use for birth control?

Their personalities.


What's the difference between a girlfriend and wife?

20 kgs.


What's the difference between a boyfriend and husband?

45 minutes.


What's the fastest way to a man's heart?

Through his chest with a sharp knife.


Why do men want to marry virgins?

They can't stand criticism.


Why is it so hard for women to find men that are sensitive, caring, and good-looking?

Because those men already have boyfriends.


What's the difference between a new husband and a new dog?

After a year, the dog is still excited to see you.


What makes men chase women they have no intention of marrying?

The same urge that makes dogs chase cars they have no intention of driving.


A brunette, a blonde, and a redhead are all in Grade 9.  Who has the biggest boobs?

The blonde, because she's 18.....


What's the difference between a porcupine and a BMW?

A porcupine has the pricks on the outside.


What did the blonde say when she found out she was pregnant?

'Are you sure it's mine?'


Why do men find it difficult to make eye contact?

Breasts don't have eyes.


What would you call it when an Italian has one arm shorter than the other?

A speech impediment.


What's the difference between an Australian zoo and an English zoo?

An Australian zoo has a description of the animal on the front of the cage along with a recipe.


How do you get a sweet little 80-year-old lady to say the F..... Word?

Get another sweet little 80-year-old lady to yell *BINGO*!


What's the difference between a northern USA fairytale and a southern USA fairytale?

A Northern fairytale begins 'Once upon a time..'

A southern fairytale begins 'Y'all ain't gonna believe this shiiit'.


Why is there no Disneyland in China ?

No one's tall enough to go on the good rides.

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My colleague can no longer attend next weeks Innuendo Seminar, so I have to fill her slot instead.

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The UK Government has said that Scotland could end up as a third world country if they vote for independence.

I don't know if things will improve to that extent, but you never know.

(Have I done this one before?)

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"You can tell a lot about a person by the beer they drink" I said to a bloke at the bar.

"Really?" he replied, "so what can you tell about me?"

"You're a b*st*rd" I said.

"What makes you say that?" he asked.

I said, "that's my beer you're drinking."

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Pfizer Announcement


Pfizer Corp. announced today that Viagra will soon be available in liquid form, and will be marketed by Pepsi Cola as a power beverage suitable for use as a mixer.


It will now be possible for a man to literally pour himself a stiff one. Obviously we can no longer call this a soft drink, and it gives new meaning to the names of 'cocktails', 'highballs' and just a good old-fashioned 'stiff drink'. Pepsi will market the new concoction by the name of: MOUNT & DO.


Thought for the day: There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

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A mangy-looking guy goes into a bar and orders a drink. The bartender says "No way. I don't think you can pay for it."


The guy says "You're right. I don't have any money, but if I show you something you haven't seen before, will you give me a drink?"


The bartender says "Only if what you show me ain't risque."


"Deal!" says the guy, as he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a hamster. He puts the hamster on the bar and it runs to the end of the bar, down a barstool, across the room, up the piano, jumps on the keyboard and starts playing Gershwin songs. And the hamster is really good.


The bartender says, "You're right. I've never seen anything like that before. That hamster is truly good on the piano."


The guy downs the drink and asks the bartender for another.


"Money or another miracle else no drink," says the bartender. The guy reaches into his coat again and pulls out a frog. He puts the frog on the bar, and the frog starts to sing. He has a marvelous voice and great pitch, a fine singer.


A stranger from the other end of the bar runs over to the guy and offers him $300 for the frog.


The guy says "It's a deal." He takes the three hundred and gives the frog to the stranger, who runs out of the bar with it.


The bartender says to the guy, "Are you some kind of nut?! You sold a singing frog for $300? It must have been worth millions. You must be crazy!"


"Not so," says the guy. "The hamster is also a ventriloquist!"

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I woke up shaking and sweating last night, having a nightmare that Gloria Gaynor was sitting at the bottom of my bed;


First I was afraid, I was petrified!



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