Friday, January 20, 2012

Funny Friday - The Bricks and the Barrel

   


For the last two days I have had to post a risqué content caution.  Today makes it three days.  I am not on a risqué kick, it just happened like that. 

For Funny Friday I was going to post some unsafe work practices pics which had been sent to me in an email. 

That brought to mind the story referred to most commonly as The Barrel and the Bricks.  It can be found in may versions – English, American, Irish – but in my opinion the best remains Italian, the way in which it was sent to me many many years ago by Byter Phil.  It was sent to me so long ago that it was sent by fax, there were no computers in offices, and I still have the fax today, faded and  dog eared.  Hey Phil, see if you remember the story, below. 

It’s quite non PC.  It’s dated.  It’s funny.

I will post the work pics next week, for today enjoy the story of the brick laden barrel . . .

DERRICK CONSTRUCTION COMPANY
Dear Mr Manager Generalissimo
I, Luigi Guiseppi Santiago, comma from Italiano and gotta a job in your kinda firm on a bigga building downa town.
When I getta to the job yesterday, the boss he say I gotta bringa the bricks a down from the fiftha floor.  So I getta some rope and a beam and a pulley and a bigga wooden barrel and makea the hoist  and hoista the barrel upa to the fiftha floor,.  Then I tiea the rope downa at the grounds floor.  When I filla the barrel with bricks, I comma down and untied the rope.
The barrel, she’s a more heavy than me and as she comma down I goa up.  But, Sir, I not let go of the rope.
Halfa way upo I meeta the barrel, she’s gotta a sharp bit catcha onna end of my cock.  When I reach the fiftha floor, I banga my head onna the beam, jamma my fingers ina the pulley, getta the concussion, breaka four fingers and have a sixty foota cock.  But, Boss, I stilla notta letta go of the rope.
When the barrel she hitta the ground, the arsa she fall outta him and alla the bricks they falla on the ground.  Then I getta heavier than the barrel and starta come down.
Halfa way down I meeta the barrel again, she hitta me and skinna my shin, breaka my kneecap and the sharpa bit she rip offa my left nut.  I keepa going downa till I hitta the bricks.  I getta the cuts all over, slippa the disc inna my back and breaka my leg.
Mr Sir Boss, THEN I letta go ofa the rope.  The barrel she comma down again.  She hitta me anda breaka five of my ribs, knocka out alla my teeth and breaka my jaw.

Now, Mr Boss, this isa my problem.  My wife she say she leava me because she don’t a want a husband witha one nut, no teeth and a sixty foota cock like a piece of string.  The foreman he calla me a stupid dago bastard.  This notta true.  I naturalised Australian bastard.  My doctor he say I might have a to go to hospital.
Mr Boss, what I wanta know is a how much I gotta pay for the barrel I breaka.
Luigi Guiseppi Santiago

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