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- Herausgeber: Old Pond Books
- Kategorie: Lebensstil
- Sprache: Englisch
The Farming Joke Book brings together around 500 jokes, amusing stories, and anecdotes about farmers, farm animals, and life on the farm in general. So, whether one has been farming for 'donkey's years' or is new to it, and whether these farming two-liners make the reader laugh, cry, or just groan out loud, there will definitely be something in this collection that will tickle anyone's farming funny bones. Divided into 16 categories, and with 32 specially commissioned illustrations by Rory Walker, this pocket sized book will provide hours of enjoyment and is the perfect tool for the farmer wanting to entertain friends, family, and colleagues, no matter his or her age. [Subject: Humor, Agriculture]
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Seitenzahl: 128
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019
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The Farming Joke Book
A collection of agricultural jokes, amusing stories and anecdotes
John Terry
Hon. BA., Cert.Ed., C. Biol., M.R.S.B., M.C.I.Hort., F.R.Ag.S., F.R.S.A.
For my lovely wife Sarah and our two wonderful children Jonathan and Roseanna and not forgetting my dear mother and father.
Acknowledgements
My wife Sarah has been wonderful reading through the manuscript and taking on the enormous task of typing it up on the computer.
Contents
• 1 •
Cattle
If you pampered your cow too much what would you expect to get?
Spoilt milk.
I witnessed one of my students pick up a calf ’s tail and immediately kiss the calf directly under the base of the tail.
I asked, “What are you doing that for?”
“I’ve got chapped lips,” was his reply.
“Well, that won’t cure them,” I said, sternly.
“No, Sir, but it stops me licking them.”
What do you call a bull that keeps dropping off to sleep?
A bulldozer.
When an American visitor from Texas visited my school and looked over the cattle shed door where we kept two Hereford calves he said to my students, “I see you keep Hereford cattle in England, too, do you?”
One of my twelve year old students, Paul, who was from a towny background, was very quick to give him the origin and history of the breed – needless to say I was very proud of him. However, the American was not to be outdone. He asked my students, “How many acres have you got on this little old spread?”
“Just one acre,” said Joe, proudly.
The American scoffed and said, “Don’t make me laugh son – one acre isn’t a farm. Back in Texas my garden is eight acres and my swimming pool is nearly an acre and when I get in my car at sun up I keep driving and driving and at sundown I still ain’t reached the end of my land.”
Joe replied, “Yes sir, we had a car like that once!”
Why do some cows have bells around their necks?
Because their horns don’t work.
After our son Jonathan was born I got in the lift at the hospital and pressed the button for the ground floor. I immediately recognised an ex-student in the lift, it was Simon.
“Hello sir, are you a new dad?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied “Our first child – a boy, Jonathan.”
“How about you?” I enquired.
“Yes, our first child, a girl but it took ages and ages for her to be born. We had two midwives and a doctor but it still took hours and hours, I’m exhausted! I said to the team – what are you messing about at? If my old Rural Studies teacher was here, Mr Terry, he would have got some lubricant and some calving ropes and the job would have been done in about twenty minutes.”
“You didn’t really say that did you?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied, “but my wife didn’t like me saying it!”
“Well, I wouldn’t have said it in front of my wife,” I replied.
Why is the cowman happy at work in the milking parlour?
Because it is a place of udder delight.
A lovely pedigree black Aberdeen Angus bull was standing still in the centre of the road. A man driving his new Jaguar at 90 miles an hour approached the bull from around a very sharp bend. This lunatic driver had no side lights on and no headlights and not even any fog lights. Luckily he braked just in time to miss the bull. How did he miss killing or injuring the bull or indeed injuring himself?
Answer: It was daylight.
How does a cow creep out of a field and hardly get noticed?
Answer: Right pasteurise.
“You would look silly riding the cow,” I replied.
Cattle are expensive to buy and my old farm boss, Mo, was short of money.
“John, I don’t know if I should buy a bicycle or a new Friesian cow,” he pondered.
“You would look silly riding the cow,” I replied.
“I would look even sillier trying to milk the bicycle,” was his witty reply.
Why has a milking stool only got three legs?
The cow has the udder!
When I taught Rural Studies in a secondary school I was lucky to purchase a Jersey heifer called Windsor Coronets Crystal 6th from HM the Queen (and another calf at a later date).
I visited the Royal farm for the first time with a group of students. We were shown the calf but I worried how much money she would cost because she was just perfect. I asked the farm manager how much money the calf would be.
“The Queen can’t give you the calf but we thought eighty pounds would be a fair price.”
Eighty pounds! I could have dropped. Small cross bred calves at our local market fetched more than eighty pounds. I did not dare haggle the price. It was fair. Before I visited the farm I had visions of myself and Her Majesty getting our heads together and haggling, bartering with my usual currency – a dozen new laid eggs. The farm manager Trevor did not want paying there and then – the invoice would be sent to us. We all thanked Trevor very much indeed.
“You can have her for eighty pounds as long as you promise one thing – when it is time to breed with her don’t take her to the nearest bull down the road.”
One of my students, Diane’s brow furrowed. “But why can’t Mr Terry take her to the nearest bull down the road?” she asked in all innocence.
“Look, let me explain,” said Trevor patiently. “It’s the equivalent of Mr Terry taking Princess Anne out for the night. It’s just not done.”
“Well! That’s put me in my place hasn’t it?” I remarked.
What is a bullock with no legs called?
Ground beef.
What is a bullock with no back legs called?
Lean beef.
Funny stories are part of the armoury of many salesmen and the true ones are often the funniest. I heard a corker from Tom Hendrick after he had left some free substitute calf milk and a thermometer with Mo, my old farm boss, whose unenlightened ways were something of a legend in the area. The thermometer was fixed to a flat rectangular piece of plastic with a small handle on top, the whole thing being about 15cm long and 5cm wide. A week later the rep called to see how Mo was getting on with the milk.
“The milk is very good,” Mo said, “but I couldn’t get on with that damn thermometer – it was really hurting the poor calves”.
It transpired that Mo had not used the gadget for testing the milk. He had been taking the temperature of the calves with it and as you do not place a thermometer under a calf ’s tongue it was little wonder they were not very happy with the operation.
When we castrate our bull calves they are sure to weigh two stones lighter!
A farming couple I know very well built their new calf building far too close to the house which attracted flies into their house during the summer.
“I’m fed up with these flies in the house,” she yelled. Her husband was swatting them in the kitchen.
“I’ve just killed five” he reported. He went on to say, “Three males and two females.”
“How do you know what sex they were?” she asked.
“Three were on the beer and two were on the telephone,” was his reply.
“Well you won’t believe this but he wears a brown paper bag hat, a brown paper bag shirt, brown paper bag trousers and even brown paper bag boots.”
If your cow kicks your bucket of milk over don’t cry over spilled milk, turn the udder cheek and move on.
In Texas when cowboys ruled the range, the sheriff and the deputy sheriff worked well together in their office and jail house.
“I’ve at last arrested the notorious criminal Brown Paper Bag Pedro,” announced the sheriff excitedly.
“Why is he called Brown Paper Bag Pedro?” enquired the deputy sheriff.
“Well you won’t believe this but he wears a brown paper bag hat, a brown paper bag shirt, brown paper bag trousers and even brown paper bag boots.”
“So what have you arrested him for?”
“Rustling,” was the sheriff’s reply.
Two cows talking in a field:
One cow says to the other,
“What are your views on this mad cow disease?”
The other one replies, “It’s no use asking me I’m a duck!”
An old farmer was milking his lovely old Jersey cow called Bluebell and he noticed a large fly go straight into the cow’s ear. The fly then appeared as if by magic in the milking bucket. “Well, I can’t believe this,” thought the old farmer. “I’ve never seen that before so did the fly go in one ear and out the udder?”
A towny lady asked the farmer, “Why is the grass in this field so short?”
“The cows are all lawn moo-ers,” was his reply.
My old farm boss, Mo, kept Friesians and did not like Jerseys one little bit. One of his farming neighbours, Cyril Webster, kept Jerseys and the arguments that ensued between these two on the merits of Friesians versus Jerseys often threatened to get out of hand although, no matter how heated the arguments, they always remained the best of friends.
“Friesian milk is nothing but water,” sneered Cyril.
“Rubbish! Friesian milk is quite normal – but that Jersey milk is too damn rich and creamy for my liking,” retorted Mo up in arms.
“I’ll tell you what – you could place a ten pence piece on top of Jersey milk and it would stay there. The milk is almost solid but try putting it on top of Friesian milk and it will sink straight to the bottom. Not only that, if you peered over the top of the glass you would see the ten pence piece lying at the bottom. In fact, the milk is so watery I bet you could even read the date on it,” remarked Cyril.
A couple of months later, mid-January to be exact, these two characters were in the pub again.
“My muck spreader’s broken down can I borrow yours?” asked Mo.
“’Course you can,” replied Cyril.
“I’ll fetch it in the morning then”.
Mo arrived early and started looking for Cyril. Cyril was still milking the cows. Mo went into the cowshed – it was the old fashioned sort – the cows being tethered by chains. As soon as he entered the shed Mo spotted it – a black and white Friesian tied up at the end of the line. It was immediately obvious to Mo that Cyril could not make the Jerseys pay and so had bought a Friesian. Mo’s moment had arrived and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.
“What’s this then, Cyril? Have you seen sense at last? Are you going to admit that your Jerseys don’t pay?”
Cyril, however, was ready with a witty come-back.
“Well, I’ve been getting trouble with the water pipes freezing so I bought a Friesian. I thought I could milk her first then if the water in the pipes does freeze up I can use her milk to wash the cows’ teats with.” A brilliant answer but in the end Cyril lost because two years later he had sold every Jersey and kept nothing but Friesians.
The Warwickshire farmers annual dinner and dance is a grand affair with a wonderful meal and an old fashioned dance band. It has run for years and traditionally various awards are given out including prizes for the best crop of wheat in the district, the best potatoes, best dairy herd and best flock of sheep as well as individual awards given to farmers. Our local AI (artificial insemination) man is a grand fellow and I am pleased to say at last year’s dinner he was awarded the ‘Long Service’ award.
During his thank you speech he was asked what qualifications he had, his quick reply was “A long arm.”
A sign found on a Herefordshire farm read, ‘It won’t cost you any money to cross my land but my bull might charge.’
I enjoyed keeping a Jersey cow at school; educationally it was good to have a large dairy animal as well as our goats. Many lessons could be taught involving the cow from maths to art, English to Geography. However, one time after school my students forgot to milk her. “You students are so forgetful,” I said sternly. “Come on, get her milked now!”
“We will, Sir, but on the other hand what kind of milk comes from a forgetful cow?” asked Jeremy.
“I’ve got no idea,” I replied.
“Milk of amnesia, Sir!” was his reply. The whole group of students groaned.
One of my examination questions was “Explain how milk gets from the cow to the doorstep.”
Answer: “Milk is delivered to the doorstep by dairies such as the Co-op and Urinate.”
Susie had an iron cow
She milked it with a spanner
The milk comes out in shilling tins
The little ones a tanner.
Note: This rhyme was around before the decimalisation of money. A shilling is 10 pence and a tanner is 5 pence.
I was honoured that the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh were to visit the school to see our school farm and above all to see the second Jersey that I purchased from the Queen – Windsor Grand Good News.
Sarah, our head girl, arrived at my classroom door.
“Hello, Sarah,” I said cheerfully.
“Hello, Sir. The headmaster says I’m to present the Queen with a posy of flowers when she arrives tomorrow morning.”
“That is a great honour,” I said.
“I know, Sir, but what do I say to her?”
“‘Good morning, Your Majesty, welcome to our school’”
“Thank you Sir. By the way, what does ER stand for?” she asked.
“Elizabeth Regina,” I said.
“Well, can’t I just say ’ere y’are ER?”
“No you most certainly cannot,” I said emphatically.
Dairy farmer talking:
“I could dance with the wife until the cows came home soon after we got married and now I could dance with my cows until she doesn’t come home!”
My farm boss said on a very cold morning, “John, my hands are so cold I thought I was milking Daisy but actually I was shaking hands with myself. Last week it was so hot Daisy was giving evaporated milk!”
“Are you sure it wasn’t mastitis?” was my expert reply.
Where do cows go for lunch?
The calf-eteria!
A beef cattle farmer called Pete Clark with over 1000 head of cattle met his new farming neighbour and greeted him with “Hello, I’m Peter Clark and I farm over a thousand head of cattle. Are you the very famous Joshua Wright?”
Joshua replied “Why? What ya heard?”
“Cattle, I just told you didn’t I?” was Pete’s reply.
The bull and cow were rubbing noses. The eighteen-year-old farm lad was watching them. He looked at his girlfriend and said, “I want to do the same.”
“Go on then, please yourself – they are your cattle,” was her reply.
The farmer’s wife had a rant and a rave at her husband.
