So there we all are sitting around
my grandparents' table having lasagne - the olds, the parents, my sisters, me. There's been a silence for a few minutes, before my grandmother suddenly sits up straight, brow slightly furrowed, and hits us with a pure gem:

"You know, if this didn't have any meat in it, it'd be a vegetarian meal."

By the time we'd stopped laughing, it had gone cold.

Me and a mate came back from a night on the lash, where my flatmates (one girlfriend at the time, one blonde girl) decided to rip the piss by saying they'd bought a chicken (don't ask) and subsequently lost it.

Carlos, a million beers inside him, says, "Is it a boy chicken? It might have gone to watch the football."

Baldy nutter.
(unholysmoke, Tue 11 Jan 2005, 9:47, Reply)