JOKES & CARTOONS

TICKLES

Diplomatic Immunity :

It was a silly story
Of doubtful veracity.

But then, Kwame Nkrumah
Was the President of Ghana,
And he ran the State
With rather autocratic,
Somewhat dictatorial, majestic powers.

Defying the neo-colonialist overtures
Of the erstwhile imperial masters -
The Anglo-American western super-powers –
Nkrumah pitched his tent with the “East”.
Taking an Egyptian lady for wife,
And the U.S.S.R. for an ally.

Khrushchev visited Ghana
And rode in a limousine with Nkurumah.
He pounded on the arm of the chair –
There was no table in the limo –
As he yelled for a stop, and queried:
“What is that man doing there!?”
“He is answering the call of nature,”
Nkrumah replied, as they watched
A kente clad man, urinating
Into the open Accra Street gutter.
“In public?” fumed Khrushchev,
“That would never happen in Russia:
I would have had the man shot,
Or, worse still, sent to Siberia!”
Later in the year
Nkrumah returned the visit,
And rode with Khrushchev, in a tank
Which had a small table built in –
For K’s pounding tantrums,
Which had become not infrequent.

The convoy, returning at twilight
From a presidential cocktail party,
Was halted for an unknown cause –
One of the leading cars had apparently stopped.
But Nkrumah soon saw something.
That he thought was most interesting:
Under the shadow of a roadside tree
A little distance always, stood a man
Answering the call of nature
In the open, on a Moscow Street!

He drew the attention of Mr. K.:
“I thought I heard you say
That such things did not occur
Here in disciplined U.S.S.R.?

K. pounded his table loud
In inconceable embarrassment.
“Bring that man here
And have him shot instantly!
No, I have a better idea –
Send him straight to Siberia!
But first bring him here,
So that I can have a good look at his face”.


As the man approached the tank,
Almost in step with K’s pounding rhythm,
His striped and chequered kente cloth
Wrapped over his left shoulder
Revealed the black man’s personality:
It was the Ghanaian Ambassador!

Nkrumah looked at Khrushchev,
And K. returned the look:
They both nodded and spoke in unison,
“Diplomatic Immunity!”
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Oath of Obedience, Vow of Disobedience
:
It was one of those new “born again: churches.
The pastor-founder did not go to a theological college:
He was a self-ordained prophet-priest-
There are quite a few of them around these days.
He had, by his own testament, seen a vision
To found his own denomination of worshippers
Who would worship God “in spirit and in truth”.


He preached very inspiring sermons;
He said moving prayers
That often brought tears out of the congregation,
Inspiring them to make penance for their sins
And bring large tithes to the coffers of the church!
He occasionally performed miracles,
And sometimes made prophetic pronouncements,
Which often, like those of the three witches
In Shakespeare’s Macbeth, did some to pass,
In most obscure and indirect ways.
He even spoke in tongues-
Although only he himself could interpret them!

He once in a while saw visions, in church,
In which the Lord would speak to him,
Giving directives for the congregation to obey-
Each adult member on joining the congregation
Would have taken a solemn” Oath of Obedience”
To carry out the Lord’s commands
To the best of his individual, human ability.



By such visions and consequent obedience
The congregation had built a befitting church.
A mansion for the pastor also followed.
Many other requirements for his comfort were provided.
For they regularly paid their tithes and more;
Even if, sometimes, some of them had murmured
Their complaints to themselves and close friends,
Or occasionally even brought them up to the Elders.


By these visions the pastor, periodically,
Had got directives to promote himself
Up the gradual ladder of seniority in the priesthood-
With appropriate matching changes of regalia,
Each new one more richly embroidered,
Commensurate with the priest’s vision
Of the decorative adornment fit for each new title.


Only recently he had had the vision
That he should be consecrated Bishop;
And, in accordance with the directives of the vision,
Twelve Elders performed the ceremony
In the presence of the whole congregation
On the Pentecost Sunday of that year!
Six months later he had another vision:
While on the pulpit, preaching, he went into a trance-
He praised the Lord with chants and songs,
He recited psalms and spake in tongues:

“Oh, yes, Lord, I hear Thee well;
I hear Thee loud and clear like a bell;
But you know my congregation, Lord,
They are people of a hard heart-
They will not obey your directives, Lord!”
And he spoke in tongues – without translating.

The congregation murmured to one another:
“What is this that we will not obey?
After all we have obeyed everything in the past,
Hard enough as that had been for many of us;
So we shall certainly obey this time –
Why, we all took the Oath of Obedience!”

So they shouted severally and collectively:
“We shall obey, Lord, they directives;
We shall obey, Lord, we shall obey.”


“Will you obey?” queried the lord bishop;
“We shall obey,” chanted the congregation in unison.


So the bishop gave the message:
“The good Lord has directed that,
In keeping with my new status as bishop,
I deserve a car commensurate with the status;
Mercedes Benz, V-Booth, all white in colour!”


It took the congregation over six months:
They paid their tithes, and ten times more.
Some extra-committed members of the congregation
Failed to pay the rents of their one-room apartments;
Some skipped family meals, reducing to two a day,
Or even one meal a day – in prayerful fast –
So as to raise the large sum required
To meet the demands of the Oath of Obedience.
They did buy the white V-Booth Mercedes Benz
In which the lord bishop rode with pomp and majesty.


Another six months passed.
Some members of the congregation were only just
Beginning to recover from the self mortification,
And from the excessive personal taxation;
Others had not yet paid the arrears of rent;
Some had not yet returned to three square meals a day.


But the bishop was on the pulpit again;
He went into a trance and spoke in tongues,
And he pronounced his concern for his flock:

“I hear Thee, Lord, I had Thee well.
But you know my congregation, Lord,
They are people of a hard heart;
They will not obey Thy directives, Lord”.
Without any prompting from anybody
The whole congregation shouted in unison:


“We will NOT obey, Lord, We will not obey!”


Their oath of obedience had, apparently, now
Been changed into a vow of disobedience!

Culled from TEASERS

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You Know …

(A wink of the left eye) :

She was a pretty girl.
She walked down the street.
He was attracted to her.
But he was not sure what to do.
So, he followed her.
Wherever she went, he followed.
He noticed the harassing follower.
Why do you keep following me?
“You know, … “he replied,
With a twitch and a blink,
And a wink of the left eye.

Many minutes passed.
She asked again:
Why do you keep following me?
“You know, … “he replied,
With a twitch and a blink,
And a wink of the left eye.

She had to call the police.
The policeman asked quite seriously.
Why do you keep following her?
“You know, … “ he replied,
With a twitch and a blink,
And a wink of the left eye.

They ended up in a magistrate court.
It seems to me, the magistrate said,
That you were constituted yourself
A nuisance, by following the lady
Wherever she went.
So, please tell the court:
Why did you keep following her?
“You know, …” he replied,
With a twitch and a blink,
And a wink of the left eye.

The magistrate pondered for a while.
Well, I hereby sentence you
To fifty naira fine –
Or one week imprisonment in lieu!
It was then that the young man cried out,
What is this, What have I done?
What have I done
To deserve such a punishment?
“You know, … “replied the magistrate,
With a twitch and a blink,
And a wink of the left eye.

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As usual :
An Onitsha trader had made some money –
By hook or by crook, it did not matter -
And he had learned that now,
As a mark of sophistication and affluence,
Traders go to the Catering Rest House
To have their lunch or mid-day snack.
So, off he went, one afternoon,
To have his lunch at the “Katerin” Rest House,
Making sure that he took along with him
More money than he needed for a month.

The restaurant was neat and tidy,
With well-laid tables fully covered with cloth.
A menu was brought by a waiter,
But our friend thought it was all Greek.
But he must not make a fool of himself,
with so many other people in the place
He could not afford to be embarrassed
By other people noticing his lack of experience.
He just had to use his “number Six”
To scale through this temporary haggle

It is said that when a chicken
Arrives fresh to a new dwelling place,
It first stands on one leg,
And watches what other chickens do
So be it with our Onitsha trader!

His chance came almost immediately,
As a popular man breezed into the restaurant,
This man, it was clear to our trader,
Certainly knew his way around the place,

The waiter approached the new arrival,
What would you have today, Sir?
”As usual,” he said, “Give me – as usual!”
What an opportunity!
Knocking once, but enough –
Our Onitsha trader beckoned on the waiter,
Give me also As usual, he said,
As usual, just like that man.

It was a plate of fresh green salad,
Well arrayed and beautifully to behold.
The new arrival pounced on his own,
devouring it with resplendent relish.
Our Onitsha trader approached cautiously:
He took a bite at the raw lettuse,
He tried the tomato – also raw,

The cucumber and carrots were no better,
Not to talk of the “hard” cabbage
surely, this is not cooked he thought
so he went over to our “new comes”
And asked, in all seriousness:
Is your As usual well cooked?
Mine is not cooked at all




Animal talk

The vulture says that he is particularly happy
About his wife’s labour pains:
If it is safe delivery, he gets a new child,
If it fatal, it is meat for him.

After sniffing at a chicken dropping he came accross,
The fox remarked;
If the waste matter of the bird has such a pleasing aroma,
One wonders what savoury taste
The poultry meat itself must have!


Cheque point
A police officer on duty at a check point
ordered an oncoming vehicle to stop.
When the car stopped, the driver who looked every
inch a comedian beckoned on the police officer and said:
“look here, officer,
I have no cash on me.
Will you take a cheque?”
“I am sorry, Sir, “said the policeman,
Although this a cheque point,
We do not take cheques –
They might be incriminating –
Here, we accept strictly cash, no more no less.


culled from TEASERS