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Oh, that witty weasel

princealbert

One of the fun side effects of marrying a foreigner is that he or she will not have heard the dumbass kid jokes EVERYbody in your home country knows from the age of, like, five. So you get credit for being having an incredibly quick wit. Or, anyhow, you have stuff to talk about. It goes like:

“I’m rubber, you’re glue!”
“What’s this?”
“It bounces off me and sticks to you!”
“Oh, I say, Weasel! How frightfully droll!”

So I got to explain, “do you have Prince Albert in a can?” and his companions, “do you have Prince Edward in a box?” and “do you have Martha White in a bag?” yesterday.

Actually, I never heard those last two. I found them (and the ad on the right) on the appropriate Wikipedia page.

Yep, that’s right. I looked up “do you have Prince Albert in a can?” on Wikipedia. I’m a thoroughly post-modern weasel.

I love the ad, by the way. It typifies the weird mix of respect and disrespect we held for Indians way back when we were allowed to have attitudes about Indians. I remember the expression “to put the Indian sign on” — it was sort of the evil eye — but not “Jimmy” as an adjective. Or “smartweed” for nasty tobacco.

And that’s all you’re getting out of me today. I’ve got a written driving exam tomorrow!

sock it to me

Comments


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: November 18, 2009, 6:49 pm

I remember Martha White flour, of course. Flatt and Scruggs did the jingle for the Opry.

So far, I’ve passed all the mock exams I’ve taken, but not by what I’d consider a confidence-building margin. So it’s cram, cram, cram little weasel…right after my bath.

 


Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: November 18, 2009, 6:57 pm

Of course, it works t’other way round, too.

Thus today, while out driving, I was able to mine my inexhaustible stock of jokes-last-heard-when-I-was-ten, thus:

A new assistant is behind the counter of a chemist’s shop (drug store) when a man walks in, hacking and coughing.

“I need something really, really strong for this cough!”

The pharmacist wanders over and sells the man a bottle of castor oil, telling him to drink the whole bottle at one go.

The assistant is horrified! “But… but.. that poor man! He came in here looking to stop his cough and you sold him castor oil!” she splutters.

“Ha!” scoffs the pharmacist. “Look at him over there, hanging onto those park railings. He daren’t cough!”

Eye thenk yew…

 


Comment from Roman Wolf
Time: November 18, 2009, 7:23 pm

“A lecturer visits the mental hospital and gives a lecture about how great communism is. Everybody claps loudly except for one person who keeps quiet. The lecturer asks: ‘Why aren’t you clapping?’ and the person replies ‘I’m not a psycho, I work here.'”

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Russian_jokes

 


Comment from Can’t hark my cry
Time: November 18, 2009, 7:43 pm

So, can we assume Uncle Badger already knew the one about whether you have olive oil in a bottle?

(And–best of British luck on the driving exam, Weasel!)

 


Comment from BuckNutty
Time: November 18, 2009, 8:18 pm

Good Luck Weasel!

 


Comment from Scubafreak
Time: November 18, 2009, 8:30 pm

Remember Stoatie, the blue haired nun walking the goat is 50 points…..

 


Comment from Deborah
Time: November 18, 2009, 9:10 pm

Right, left, Right, Stoatie.

My pa smoked PA in a can. I had quite a collection of cans and little kid stuff stuck in them. Oh how I wish I had just one of them now.

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: November 18, 2009, 9:14 pm

Are they worth something, or just for sentiment, Deborah?

(Yeah, yeah…taking a break. You can only watch those Hazard Perception video clips for so long).

 


Comment from EW1(SG)
Time: November 18, 2009, 9:20 pm

Good luck, Weasel!

/Uncle Badger should be able to entertain us for years with tales of the Stoat Terrorising Teh Countryside.

 


Comment from Deborah
Time: November 18, 2009, 9:23 pm

I suppose PA cans in pristine condition would be worth something to collectors. And for those decorators who decorate trendy bars and restaurants in fishing tackle, and cast nets, and other manly items.

Absolutely for sentimental reasons, I would want one, ’cause I still have some little kid stuff that I need a place to stash. And they smelled soooo good inside. Not as good as a Cherry Blend can, but still good. (I positively swoon in a tobacco shop.)

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: November 18, 2009, 9:39 pm

My dad smoked vanilla Borkum Riff — is that how you spell it? Mmm mmm! No wonder I was a smoker.

As expected, a drink has improved my performance enormously.

 


Comment from S. Weasel
Time: November 18, 2009, 9:49 pm

God, this thing was filmed in Deppress-o-vision! It’s like all the shittiest city centers in Britain. On a slushy day. During road construction. While you’re driving the dog to the vet to be put down.

 


Comment from bad cat robot
Time: November 18, 2009, 10:37 pm

I haz Weasel-swag from Zazzle! Zombie Reagan keeps me warm n’ comfy in a sweatshirt, he does. Consider it a good omen for the Inquisition d’Auto (da fe …)

 


Comment from David Gillies
Time: November 18, 2009, 11:48 pm

I’ve been exposed to them dadgum Intertubes for far too long. I’m as rock-ribbed a Britisher as Uncle B. and I knew the ‘Prince Albert in a can’ phone spoof lo these twenty-plus years ago. I think there’s a printout of my first email address in the Smithsonian somewhere (on permanent loan from the National History Museum in Kensington).

Having said that, there are still lacunae. I was hovering in a gastroenteritis-induced fever dream a few days back when the name Ring Lardner drifted into my sadly etiolated consciousness and I realised if I pegged out I would never know what he or his ilk signified (this is a true story). I suppose it’s a bit like the name J. B. Morton to you ex-colonials.

Nonetheless, the scope for transatlantic confusion has been sharply inhibited by the Internet.

 


Comment from Uncle Badger
Time: November 19, 2009, 8:25 am

Gastroenteritis, eh?

My sympathies and best wishes for a speedy recovery…. Nasty, very nasty.

 


Comment from Jakeman
Time: November 19, 2009, 9:24 am

Hey Weasey, is your refrigerator running?

 


Comment from Pupster
Time: November 19, 2009, 10:18 am

Good luck on the driving test Stoaty.

 


Comment from Deborah
Time: November 19, 2009, 10:25 am

Is your refrigerator running—oh man that was the first one I learned. And because I knew it would get a laugh, but in complete innocence I asked my grandmother (who lived with us) what word started with an F and ended in a K?

Can you spell blanch? How about firetruck?

 


Comment from David Gillies
Time: November 19, 2009, 12:18 pm

Yes, UB, it was very unpleasant. I lost half a stone in three days. I still have the bruise from the canula where they stuffed a gallon of blood expanders in me. Now I have to eat like a trencherman for the next couple of weeks and try to put the weight back on.

 


Comment from mommer
Time: November 19, 2009, 9:08 pm

Dumb kid jokes. My person favorite is,

why does a cow wear a bell? Because it’s horns don’t work.

A real knee slapper.

Used to have some great songs but they were too racially insensitive or just too risque (read filthy).

 


Comment from The Dread Pirate Neck Beard
Time: November 19, 2009, 10:09 pm

Back when I was a wee poet, before I’d heard o’ Barth, we referred to it as “Sot-Weed”. Make of that what you will.

 


Comment from Can’t hark my cry
Time: November 19, 2009, 10:37 pm

Back when I was a wee poet, before I’d heard o’ Barth, we referred to it as “Sot-Weed”

Well, Barth stole the title from the original Ebenezer Cooke. And the term “sot weed” is OLD–shows up in Grose’s A Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, first published in 1785. But when I try to figure out why (OK, I could GUESS why, but that’s not definitive) “sot weed”. . .I can find nothing. Harumph!
[sigh. I’ve forgotten how to do quotes in the elegant

 


Comment from Can’t hark my cry
Time: November 19, 2009, 10:39 pm

OK, just ignore that final sentence fragment. Rats.

 


Comment from BillT
Time: November 23, 2009, 10:35 am

Best line from the old Smothers Brothers Comedy Hour Thanksgiving sketch was Tommy’s Squanto impression: “Many moons ago, white man cross big lake in great canoe with white wings. Look for yellow iron. Indian not have yellow iron, instead give white man tobacco. Rot lungs. Heeeeeeeee!”

 

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