Talking of elephants, very old joke, sorry but couldn’t resist:
Question: How do you know that an elephant has been in your fridge?
Answer: The footprints in the butter.
I haven’t heard an elephant joke for years. They’re always incredibly juvenile.
Q: How does an elephant hide in the strawberries?
A: It wears red sneakers.
Yes, Alma invited him in. Luckily they don’t rush in places, like dogs do. They’re more like the hens in that respect, more cautious. One hen likes to come in and eat the dog’s food. The dog gets furious when she sees it.
It was a horse that taught me to back somersault. It used the hoof-to-mouth technique.
How very impressive. Though I was quite good at gym I could never do that.
But how do you get rid of the elephant in the room?
I have little or no experience with elephants, unfortunately. I’m guessing that food would be involved.
Talking of elephants, very old joke, sorry but couldn’t resist:
Question: How do you know that an elephant has been in your fridge?
Answer: The footprints in the butter.
I haven’t heard an elephant joke for years. They’re always incredibly juvenile.
Q: How does an elephant hide in the strawberries?
A: It wears red sneakers.
I don’t find those juvenile.
And what is the hoof-to-mouth technique, anyway?
That’s not photoshopped, is it. The goats go in the house, I bet the horse does too.
“The elephant in the room” is also an Americanism, which I’ve usually heard in the context of alcoholism to describe group/family denial of a problem:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elephant_in_the_room
Oh boy, Mr Crown is online!
So what’s the back — yuck yuck — story? Did the horse wander in, or was he invited in to share the morning coffe?
Yes, Alma invited him in. Luckily they don’t rush in places, like dogs do. They’re more like the hens in that respect, more cautious. One hen likes to come in and eat the dog’s food. The dog gets furious when she sees it.
You walk round its stern; it whacks you.
Would Alma have them all sleep with her if she could?
I can appreciate the dog’s fury. I mean, really: a hen in her food? The nerve!