Sunday, 17 November 2013

A Joke for Sunday: The Talking Dog

Here's a long joke about a talking dog. You can't stop me if you've heard it but you can stop yourself reading.

Man feels in need of a pet so he scans the papers and finds an ad that says, 'Talking dog for sale, £10'.

Sounds amazing, he thinks, rings the number and goes round to the house. Householder opens the door, says, You've come about the dog? He's in the garage. Go on, talk to him. He'll be happy to see you.

Man goes into the garage and there is a dog, no particular breed, lying on a dirty blanket.

I suppose you've come to see me, says the dog.

Man is amazed. You really do talk! he exclaims.

Yes, I talk, says the dog. What do you want to know?

Well, says the man, not quite knowing what to ask, I suppose you could tell me something about yourself.

I was born in New York, says the dog, and adopted by a very rich woman with a great apartment in Manhattan. I had a good life there, but one fine Thursday in June while out walking, I was kidnapped by a bunch of dog thieves. They hid me in a cellar and threatened me with a gun. Those were tough times, but on one occasion - I can't remember now which day it was, it might have been a Sunday - the man with the gun came too close. I snatched the gun from him and ordered him to let me out. So now I was armed and pretty soon I got in with a bad crowd. I'll skip the details but there was a price on my head and I thought I've got to get out. So I stowed away on a flight to Paris, where I spent some years as a bartender. Then I got involved in crime again, drugs this time. I was heavy into drugs myself for a couple of years, then the gang split up and somebody grassed on me and I spent two years in prison. But I dug my way out, adopted a false name, and managed to find my way to England by night ferry. I decided to go straight at that point. I worked in Claridge's as a guard dog - I don't mind night work - then made it to Mayfair. I lived in style for six months but then the money ran out and I finished up here. Anything else you want to know?

No, gasps the man, that is quite a life. I am amazed. I'll just go and have a word with your owner.

Go ahead, says the dog. He's dull but decent enough.

Man goes back into the house and says to the owner, I think that is the most remarkable dog I have ever met. He really does talk and he seems to have led an extraordinary life on top of that. How come he is so cheap? £10 is nothing for a dog like that.

Oh, you don't want to believe a word, he's a dreadful liar, says the man. £5 and he's yours.


Gwil W said...

Reminds me of a joke about a dancing chicken. A circus owner sees a sign in a pub window: "Dancing Chicken for Sale!" so he goes in the pub and asks the publican if he can see the chicken perform. "You want to buy him?" asks the landlord. "Well, I want to see him dance and then if he's any good I'll buy him". The publican goes in the next room and come back with a chicken under his arm. He places the chicken on top of a biscuit tin which is on top of the bar and lo and behold the chicken begins to dance. "I'll take him" says the circus owner. "Fifty quid" says the publican. The circus owner hands over the money and picks up the chicken. He's walking out of the door when the the publican shouts after him: Hey, don't forget the biscuit tin and the candle."

Dafydd John said...

Nice one! I used to look forward to your Sunday evening blogs, it was a rather pleasant kind of east-west conversation. I could compare notes with how things had been that day here in Aberystwyth.

Normal service resumed? I hope so...