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Wales, where the men are men and the sheep are nervous... What do you call a Welshman with many girlfriends? A Shepherd.Cathegories:
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Wales, where the men are men and the sheep are nervous...
Do you know that Mary just got married yesterday?
- oh, God, is she pregnant?
- well, that's posh...
Wales' second airport
The Welsh Assembly announced recently the opening of Wales's second airport, the Gurnos Estate International Airport in Merthyr Tydfil.
The first flight to arrive was the 11.50 Virgin Airlines Cross-Atlantic flight from America. The people from Gurnos estate were so excited that they raced to meet the flight, as it was the first Virgin seen in the area for 20 years.
The return journey to America was due for departure at 12.30, but it was delayed because when the pilot went to the aircraft he found it up on blocks and stripped to the bone. As a result every house in the Gurnos now has a new hall carpet, every lounge now has a reclining chair, every bed has new pillow cases, and Mrs Bowen who is living on the end of the street has a new number for the house, number 747.
The Welsh Spy
Not long after the Cold War began, it so happened that a socialist Welshman - John Jones by name - was in London. He happened to be sitting in a park one day when a man in a trench coat came and sat beside him.
- Voud you be interested in spying on ze Briddish? asked the stranger in a thick Russian accent.
- "Sure I would, boyo", said John Jones cheerfully. "For we Welsh have been oppressed for years. I'm on your side!"
- Very well... Ze password vill be, "Ze geese fly high over ze frozen pond while ze sun shines." Got that?
- "Right you are", says John. '"Ze geese fly high over ze frozen pond while ze sun shines. What do I have to do now?"
- Nuzzing for ze moment... Ve vill activate you ven ve haf need of you. It may be a year, it may be 10 years, but ve vill. Vill you be ready? You vill remember ze password?
- "I will", said John eagerly, and returned to his small home village in Wales.
Although John waited eagerly, the call never came.
Ten years, twenty, thirty ... until 1999, when a command came from the Russian HQ to activate agent John Jones immediately. A Russian agent headed for the little village where John Jones lived, only to find there were 300 John Joneses listed for the area. He scratched his head and decided that he would go to the local pub and try the password until he found his man.
So, the Russian agent headed off to the local pub and ordered a pint of beer. He saw a man standing alone at one end of the counter, and thought he might as well begin. He sidled across to the solitary drinker, watching the crowd about him with cautious eyes.
- Nice evening, said the Russian.
- "Yes", said the drinker.
- Is your name Jones? asked the Russian.
- "Yes", said the drinker.
- Funny, isn't it, said the Russian agent, the geese fly high over the wintry pond while the sun shines.
The drinker tossed back his beer and said:
- "It's not me you'll be wanting. You want Jones the spy, over by the window".