A long moral story

[Dennis Millard]

Away off to the horth of the Scottish mainland, in the middle of the North Sea, there are a number of islands with names like Eigh and Huisht. and one of these small, rocky islands was well known for its popuation of ponies, which bred there in large numbers.
They became, in time, the main means of transportation, and an integral part of island life; so much so in fact, that when one met a neighbour, it was customary to say such things as, "Good morning, Miss Jennifer, How is your pretty pony today?" too which the reply might be, "Good day, Mr McCracken, and how is your chubby pony today?" Everyone had a pony of some sort, and naturally, the fattest and sleekest pony of them all belonged to the parson. He would ride around the parish and people would doff their bonnets and say, "There goes parson McGonicle onhis big fat pony again."
Well, things went on in this quiet manner for many years until the war disturbed the peaceful life of the islands, along with the rest of the world.
In the mainlands away to the South, it was decided that ponies were needed to increase coal production for the war effort, so an order was issued, requesitioning all the ponies from the islanders.
They were horrified!
How would they get about or conduct their daily business without their beloved ponies?
Representations were made to the Scottish and English Governments,and eventually, it was decided that a large shipment of asses, which were surplus to requirements, would be sent to the islands as a temporary replacements.
Well, at first the people were resentful, but, recognising the necessity, they began to accept the asses, until eventually, they were incorporated into the island life as if they had always been there.
You would hear, "Good morning, Miss Nancy, and how is your pretty wee ass today?", and "Good day to you Mr Alastair, and how is your chubby ass?", and people would say, There goes Parson McGonicle on his big, fat ass again.", and things were much as they had been in peacetime since they were so remote from the conflict.
However, one day, a German bomber, damaged, and lost, found itself over the island, and decided to jettison its cargo of incendiary bombs. Fortunately most of them did no damage, but one fell on the church and set fire to the bell tower. As it happened, the parson was up in the tower at the time, and was trapped.
The people gathered around, helpless to assist as he looked out at the encroaching flames and prayed for guidance.
They called "Jump! Jump!", but he thought it was a long way and he wouild surely be killed
Then, looking down, he noticed that he had tethered his ass to the well in the courtyard, (because, of course, one doesn't take ones ass into church with one), and he thought, 'If I jump and can land on my fat ass, it will cushion the fall and I will be saved.'
Plucking up his courage, he jumped.
Unfortunately, he missed and fell down the well and was drowned...
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And the moral?

Any man who can't tell his own ass from a hole in the ground DESRVES to be drowned!

[rrich]

That is worthy of three groans...

Don't worry, I won't...