By Tony Deyal
A sadist and a masochist meet to satisfy their carnal desires. The masochist gives the sadist a whip and says “Beat me, beat me until I beg for mercy, then beat me some more.” The sadist says “No”. One of my readers who has never missed any of my columns over the more than thirty years I have been Saturday’s Child, heard that my next collection would be the best jokes from all my articles. He called me and asked for a hint, especially what I consider the best jokes I ever posted. Unfortunately, I could not say “No!”.
My favourite West Indian political story is about the prime minister whose country was in serious financial straits. Desperate for a solution he called a Cabinet meeting to discuss the problem. After much discussion, one of his ministers came up with an idea. “Let’s declare war on the United States,” he suggested. “We will attack them and like Germany and Japan, lose the war but win the peace. They will come in with money and assistance and we will be much better off afterwards.
Like Puerto Rico or St Thomas we might be lucky and become part of the US. No more VISA or anything after.” All the other ministers were extremely enthusiastic and applauded. Except the prime minister. His brow was furrowed and he was mightily disturbed. “That is not a good idea at all,” he said sternly, “suppose we win.”
In those days when people ask me about my favourite jokes I went into rapid response mode and said quickly, “Patrick Manning and Basdeo Panday”. In Jamaica I thought of saying, “Michael Manley and Edward Seaga” but that was risky and not risqué. Barbados was the same. I left Tom Adams and my choice for best of all, Errol Barrow, alone. Regardless of their political affiliation or the country we were in, my audience invariably laughed loudly, especially in Trinidad and Tobago.
I looked through all the thousands of puns and wordplays in my columns but had to go back to what are still my three best which I first posted in February 1998, shortly after I started my column in the Barbados Nation. Next was the Jamaica Gleaner followed by the Trinidad Express and then many others throughout the region. Facebook was late but still one of my Saturday spots. These are still “My Gleesome Threesome”.
This is one I still use in my training programmes, especially in the other Caribbean countries. It is about a Trinidadian in New York. He worked in the construction industry putting up skyscrapers. He invariably had lunch with his two best friends, a Barbadian and a Jamaican. One day, as they sat on a steel-girder fifty floors high, the Barbadian opened his lunch kit and saw flying fish and cou-cou. He got angry. “Flying fish and cou-cou again!” he exclaimed. “If I get this one more day I will throw myself from up here.”
The Jamaican opened his lunch kit and found ackee and saltfish. “Ackee and salt-fish again,” he roared. “If I get this one more day, I will throw myself from up here.” The Trinidadian opened his lunch and found roti and fried potatoes. He shouted, “If I get this one more day I will throw myself from up here.” The next day the three men opened their lunches. The Barbadian said in disgust, “Flying fish and cou-cou again!” and jumped. The Jamaican took one disgusted look at his lunch, “Ackee and salt-fish again” and jumped.
The Trinidadian saw the roti and fried potatoes and he jumped too. At the joint funeral of all three men, the widows got together. The Barbadian’s widow cried softly, “Ef I know he would do something so drastic I would have given him something else.” The Jamaican widow said: “If hi thought he would do that I would have given him a hamleete instead.” The Trinidadian’s widow said in frustration, “I can’t understand why he do that at all. He used to fix his own lunch.”
My second favourite is about the bell ringers of Paris. After the departure of Quasimodo for Disney World, a young man went to the Bishop of Notre Dame and said he was the brother of Quasimodo and wanted the job of bell ringer. The Bishop asked the young man to give him a demonstration. The young man walked to one side of the narrow parapet of the bell tower and ran straight at the huge bell, hitting it head-on.
The bell rang loudly. A little dazed, the young man walked to the edge of the platform and again ran straight at the bell. It rang again but left the young man even more dazed. Undeterred, he ran at the bell a third time and this made him so disoriented that he overshot the tower and fell far into the street below. By the time the Bishop reached the pavement, a crowd had gathered and an officious gendarme asked the Bishop, “Do you know this young man?” “No,” replied the Bishop. “But his face rings a bell.”
Following the passing of the unfortunate young man, lo and behold another one, almost identical in appearance, arrived claiming to be the brother of both Quasimodo and the other young man. He demanded an audition. He, too, sprinted at the bell and hit it head-on. He, too, became dazed after hitting the bell. And he, too, fell splat into the street beneath. By the time the Bishop arrived, a crowd had gathered and the same officious gendarme, notebook in hand, fiercely questioned the Bishop. “Do you know this young man?” asked the gendarme. “No,” replied the Bishop, “But he is a dead ringer for his brother.”
My third favourite joke is one about a farmer and his wife in Trinidad who had a bull and a cow. he cow was a sweet animal and produced milk profusely, so much in fact that the couple earned a lot of money and eventually figured out if they had a second cow they could do much better. So they went to a far-off village and bought a cow that looked suitable. However, there were problems that eventually led them to the village holy man, a Pundit, for advice.
The farmer explained the situation. “Pundit,” he said, “when the bull come up to the new cow from behind her, she jumps forward. If he comes from the side of her, she moves away. When he tackle her from the front, she back-back. The bull is frustrated and the other cow is suffering too.” The Pundit nodded his head sagely and asked, “Where you get this cow? From Penal?” The farmer and his wife were astounded. “But Pundit,” they said, “you really smart and are truly a wise man. How you know the cow was from Penal.” The Pundit nodded sadly and said, “Because my wife from Penal.”
*Tony Deyal was last seen saying that, fortunately, or unfortunately, it was Patrick Manning’s destiny, and Basdeo Panday’s karma, not to be from Penal. I am not sure about their replacements and whether the new elite deserves penal labour or penal fortitude.
