Silly Old Granddad loves His Local.

The place is going downhill and I reckon it's Cyril the landlords own fault. Let standards drop, you start to get riff raff in and its the beginning of the end. A bloke came in last night and asked for a BBC; brandy, benedictine and cointreau mixed.
'Shouldn't be drinking this with what I've got' he said, mind you, only after he were served.
'Why's that? 'I said.
''I've only got fifty pence on me' he said.
Cyril were furious. He made him write out a cheque.
'And you can endorse it' said Cyril, mustering his utmost authority.
So the bloke wrote' I think your pubs smashing' on the back. Then he had the cheek to ask for another drink.
Cyril were furious. 'Piss off'' he said.
'Oh dear, in that case I'll have a Whisky' he demanded.
Boy, did we 'ave a job throwing him out. Mind you, we were a bit rough to say the least. Hit his head as he landed on the pavement. Blood everywhere, it were quite scary.
'Where yer bleeding from?' asked Cyril, quite concerned.
'Ilford,' said the customer, 'what's that got to effin do with anything.'
Then he went. We were glad to see the back of him. Who needs his type when we've our regulars to look after.
Old Davey were his usual entertaining self. He'd been to see his brother in the old folks home.
What's your brother like' I asked him.
'Beer, fags and women' he said.
'No,what's he like, like.'
'Fat and ugly' said Davey.
He can be hard work, can Davey.
They try hard at the old folks home. Just before Christmas, as a surprise they had Will Young to lead a sing song. Will enjoyed it but were a bit concerned that nobody seemed to recognise him.
'Do you know who I am?' he asked one old lady.
'No' she answered, 'but if you ask one of the nurses I'm sure they'll tell you.'
The old man in the next chair looked a bit strange. Davey couldn't help staring.
'He's got a glass eye' said his brother.
'How do you know?' asked Davey.
'It just came out when we were talking.' said his brother.
There's no answer to that.
I went and sat with one armed Wally for a while. He were singing to himself, 'The Green, Green Grass of Home.' Its not unusual. He lives in a world of his own at times.
He's not the sharpest, is Wally. He went in the ironmongers in the week for some screws.
'How long do you want them' asked the chap behind the counter.
'Well I was hoping to keep them for good' said Wally.
Mind you, he's not completely dopey. He went to the bar for another drink. As he picked up his pint his sleeve went in a blokes drink. The chap were not amused.
'What do you think you're doing' the fellow yawped. Wally kept his cool.
'I can't see what all the fuss is about' said Wally, 'there's no arm in it.'
It were all getting too lively for me. I were glad when I'd had enough.
I were going to have something to eat in the pub but they're non too fussy at times. The barman taking a meal to a table didn't half push his hand against the steak.
'That's not very hygienic' I suggested.
'Well I don't want to drop it again' he said.
I went to the fish and chip shop next door instead. I thought the wife might appreciate me taking some chips home.
'Fish and chips twice' I ordered.
'I heard you the first time' the man said.
The wife liked the chips and I reckoned she appreciated my kind gesture. I bet she were right pleased she'd lent me the money to go out. I were feeling quite with it after the antics in the pub. 'You look very youthful in that dress, my dear' I offered.
'It's too long and the veil keeps getting in my eyes' she moaned. Oh well, you can't win them all. Women, they're never happy!

(My apologies yet again for the age of the jokes. As I've told you before, my wife says 'The old ones are the best. But she would say that, wouldn't she!)