Irish Declare War on France- that should get folks to read
- TomB
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Irish Declare War on France- that should get folks to read
The Irish Declare War on France...
Jacques Chirac, The French Prime Minister, was sitting in his office
wondering what kind of mischief he could perpetrate against the United
States when his telephone rang.
"Hallo, Mr. Chirac!", a heavily accented voice said. "This is Paddy down at
the Harp Pub in County Sligo, Ireland. I am ringing to inform you that we
are officially declaring war on you!"
"Well, Paddy," Chirac replied, "This is indeed important news! How big is
your army?"
"Right now," said Paddy, after a moment's calculation, "there is myself, me
cousin Sean, me next door neighbor Seamus, and the entire dart team from the
pub. That makes eight!"
Chirac paused, "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have one hundred thousand men
in my army waiting to move on my command."
"Begorra!" said Paddy, "I'll have to ring you back!" Sure enough, the next
day, Paddy called again. "Mr. Chirac, the war is still on. We have managed
to get us some infantry equipment!"
"And what equipment would that be, Paddy?" Chirac asked.
"Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy's farm tractor."
Chirac sighed, amused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and
5,000 armored personnel carriers. Also, I've increased my army to one
hundred fifty-thousand since we last spoke."
"Saints preserve us!" said Paddy. "I'll have to get back to you."
Sure enough, Paddy rang again the next day. "Mr. Chirac, the war is still
on!" We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We've modified Jackie
McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four
boys from the Shamrock Pub have joined us as well!"
Chirac was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. "I must tell
you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military
complex is surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And
since we last spoke, I've increased my army to two hundred thousand!"
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!", said Paddy, "I'll have to ring you back."
Sure enough, Paddy called again the next day. "Top o' the mornin', Mr.
Chirac! I am sorry to tell you that we have had to call off the war."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Chirac "Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Well," said Paddy, "we've all had a long chat over a bunch of pints, and
decided there's no way we can feed two hundred thousand prisoners."
Tom
Jacques Chirac, The French Prime Minister, was sitting in his office
wondering what kind of mischief he could perpetrate against the United
States when his telephone rang.
"Hallo, Mr. Chirac!", a heavily accented voice said. "This is Paddy down at
the Harp Pub in County Sligo, Ireland. I am ringing to inform you that we
are officially declaring war on you!"
"Well, Paddy," Chirac replied, "This is indeed important news! How big is
your army?"
"Right now," said Paddy, after a moment's calculation, "there is myself, me
cousin Sean, me next door neighbor Seamus, and the entire dart team from the
pub. That makes eight!"
Chirac paused, "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have one hundred thousand men
in my army waiting to move on my command."
"Begorra!" said Paddy, "I'll have to ring you back!" Sure enough, the next
day, Paddy called again. "Mr. Chirac, the war is still on. We have managed
to get us some infantry equipment!"
"And what equipment would that be, Paddy?" Chirac asked.
"Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy's farm tractor."
Chirac sighed, amused. "I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 6,000 tanks and
5,000 armored personnel carriers. Also, I've increased my army to one
hundred fifty-thousand since we last spoke."
"Saints preserve us!" said Paddy. "I'll have to get back to you."
Sure enough, Paddy rang again the next day. "Mr. Chirac, the war is still
on!" We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We've modified Jackie
McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit, and four
boys from the Shamrock Pub have joined us as well!"
Chirac was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. "I must tell
you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military
complex is surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And
since we last spoke, I've increased my army to two hundred thousand!"
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!", said Paddy, "I'll have to ring you back."
Sure enough, Paddy called again the next day. "Top o' the mornin', Mr.
Chirac! I am sorry to tell you that we have had to call off the war."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Chirac "Why the sudden change of heart?"
"Well," said Paddy, "we've all had a long chat over a bunch of pints, and
decided there's no way we can feed two hundred thousand prisoners."
Tom
"Consult the Book of Armaments"
- mvhplank
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This reminds me of a joke I heard recently, and I'll repeat it at the risk of offending someone:
Q: How many Frenchman does it take to fight off an invading army?
A: No one knows--it's never been done.
I must point out, in self-defense, that like most Americans, my ancestors came from Europe, and some of my mother's family had roots in Alsace-Lorraine, which is sort of France. There are stories of a couple of elderly aunts who'd tell blue jokes by punning from French to German.
M
Q: How many Frenchman does it take to fight off an invading army?
A: No one knows--it's never been done.
I must point out, in self-defense, that like most Americans, my ancestors came from Europe, and some of my mother's family had roots in Alsace-Lorraine, which is sort of France. There are stories of a couple of elderly aunts who'd tell blue jokes by punning from French to German.
M
Marguerite
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- mvhplank
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He had wonderful taste in horses!claudine wrote:What about Bonaparte?
Didn't have quite a realistic attitude about Russia, though.
The web site where I found this (http://www.edwardtufte.com/tufte/posters) says:
Probably the best statistical graphic ever drawn, this map by Charles Joseph Minard portrays the losses suffered by Napoleon's army in the Russian campaign of 1812. Beginning at the Polish-Russian border, the thick band shows the size of the army at each position. The path of Napoleon's retreat from Moscow in the bitterly cold winter is depicted by the dark lower band, which is tied to temperature and time scales.
M
Marguerite
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- anniemcu
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*SNERK*
anniemcu
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"You are what you do, not what you claim to believe." -Gene A. Statler
---
"Olé to you, none-the-less!" - Elizabeth Gilbert
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http://www.sassafrassgrove.com
- Daniel_Bingamon
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Is this a vain attempt to swing Paddy on to the English side?
If so, let me remind you that not only did the Poms whack the bejazus out of the Paddies several times but the Oirish got even fighting for France, Spain and yes Gemany as well as Revolutionary Colonies now known as the United States of America; and in the end, or endlngly,. nothing more pleases the desecendants of that warlike Iberian Celtic nation than kicking Pom ass as far and for as long as it takes to drill the message in, buggar of Pom we are doing just fine without out you.
But if somebody decides to f*** with dear old Blighty then we will forget our differences and whup a55 do defend what ye Poms hold dear, to wit, good beer, football, cricket and yes rugby football.
IOW Ragheads prepare to D.I.E.
If so, let me remind you that not only did the Poms whack the bejazus out of the Paddies several times but the Oirish got even fighting for France, Spain and yes Gemany as well as Revolutionary Colonies now known as the United States of America; and in the end, or endlngly,. nothing more pleases the desecendants of that warlike Iberian Celtic nation than kicking Pom ass as far and for as long as it takes to drill the message in, buggar of Pom we are doing just fine without out you.
But if somebody decides to f*** with dear old Blighty then we will forget our differences and whup a55 do defend what ye Poms hold dear, to wit, good beer, football, cricket and yes rugby football.
IOW Ragheads prepare to D.I.E.
- Nanohedron
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Oh, yeah: also a mod here, not a spammer. A matter of opinion, perhaps. - Location: Lefse country
- mvhplank
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Nasty, Nano!Nanohedron wrote:Mmmmm. Basashi.mvhplank wrote:He had wonderful taste in horses!
My poor old Arab is probably spinning in his grave. He was a gentle horse, very bright, and dam' near housebroken. He enjoyed walking around with us in the pasture, in a companionable sort of way.
M
Marguerite
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You reminded me of my last horse, also an Arab(Polish). He had a fancy show ring name, but his REAL name was George. I'd had horses all my life, but this Arabian really was different personality. I'd never had a horse that literally followed me around like a dog, who WANTED to do stuff with me instead of looking warily for an escape route when they realized I was going to get them out of the field. He was very "hyper" and stubborn but also a very companionable horse. He was given to me by a lady who owned an Arabian horse farm, son of a famous stallion import that they got on loan from Poland for a few years in this country for stud purposes. He was one of the colts they "culled" that year because he did not have the typey Arab head. They were later suprised to learn that he became the high point winner in English Arabian show class. His floating trot was something to see. Later he became a great trail horse and good pet. I loved George, he was a funny mischevious horse with tons of personality.mvhplank wrote:Nasty, Nano!Nanohedron wrote:Mmmmm. Basashi.mvhplank wrote:He had wonderful taste in horses!
My poor old Arab is probably spinning in his grave. He was a gentle horse, very bright, and dam' near housebroken. He enjoyed walking around with us in the pasture, in a companionable sort of way.
M
"Let low-country intruder approach a cove
And eyes as gray as icicle fangs measure stranger
For size, honesty, and intent."
John Foster West
And eyes as gray as icicle fangs measure stranger
For size, honesty, and intent."
John Foster West