A Pantomime Joke

grayscale photo of laughing old man
Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com


“I say, I say, I say”

Said the man on the stage. In typical pantomime fashion, he was dressed as a washerwoman, with bright pink and white striped voluminous dresses with a spotted purple apron. He was also expecting the audience to participate.

“What?” The audience shouted back.

“What happened when the scientists tried to copy a Hurricane?”

The Pantomime Dame asked.

Again, the audience shouted back.

“We don’t know. What did happen when the scientists tried to copy a Hurricane?”

The Dame winked his eye and responded.

“They got a Cyclone.”

The audience groaned and laughed in equal measure.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 12/April/2019



FOWC with Fandango — Pantomime



A Musical Gimmick.

In Hindsight he wished he hadn’t bought it.

He only went into the shop to buy a present for his wife. The saleswoman had looked like such a nice lady, but she had pounced on him like a tiger at a tea party as if he was covered in whipped cream.

He emerged with a piano stool made of fine mahogany and richly upholstered in red velvet brocade. Carrying it down the narrow cobblestoned streets was tricky. He almost fell twice.

It was a bargain apparently. Just twenty pounds and it also came with a large pile of piano music from Haydn through Beethoven to Shostakovich. He realised he’d been taken in by the gimmick. How was he going to explain it to his wife?

They didn’t even own a piano.


Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 03/February/2019




FOWC with Fandango — Hindsight





A Silly Joke for you.

A Gremlin, a Zombie and a Poltergeist walk into a bar.


The barman, who had seen everything in his time didn’t bat an eyelid.


“What’ll it be?” He asked them.


“I’ll have your blood,” Said the Gremlin, licking his lips.

“Brains,” Said the Zombie, mindlessly.

“I’ll have your soul” exclaimed the poltergeist grinning with insane energy.


“Oh No!” Exclaimed the barman, “Don’t tell me it’s election time again!”



Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 04/September/2018


This was written in response to The Haunted Wordsmith’s Three Things Challenge and also the Ragtag Word Prompt. (so blame them not me 😉 )





Three Things Challenge, 31 May 2018 – In Total Darkness


The Haunted Wordsmith is doing a daily challenge where they provide three things that must be included in a story. Have a look at the link above.

I thought I would have a go.

Three items for 31 May 2018: aster, crow’s feather, joke.

Up in the Highlands of Scotland, in the shadow of Ben Nevis, is a small cottage. No one lives there anymore, but it is rented out to walkers and adventurous types but no one seems to stay there for longer than one night.

I remember going there with Jessica, Steve and Maria. Pals from my student days. We had graduated from Uni back in 2001 and we decided to get together again for a reunion in 2011. Maria had heard of a haunted cottage not too far from where she was now living in Edinburgh and had booked it for us. We all arrived at Edinburgh station and Maria had hired a car to take us all up to the Highlands and the cottage.

When we got there, the sun was shining and the cottage itself looked absolutely beautiful with Lavender growing down the path and purple asters growing under the windows.

Inside it was clean but a bit old-fashioned. The sofa had certainly seen  better days, as had the curtains that were a moth-eaten velvet material in a dark mustard colour.

I remember walking up the narrow wooden stairs to find my room, up under the rafters. On the bed someone had placed a crow’s feather. It gave me the shivers, but I assumed it had been someone’s idea of a joke.

We’d all brought along quite a bit to drink. Maria had a couple of bottles of single malt whisky, Jessica had brought along some gin. Steve pretty much only drank Lager but had brought a long twelve cans of export. I had a bottle of plum brandy that I had made myself. You can’t beat a bit of home-brew.

We were about half way through our drinks when weird stuff began to happen. We’d put the television on for some background noise while we all talked about our lives and picked up from where we all had left off. All of a sudden the T.V signal went and we were left with white noise. Then a load of soot came down the chimney and completely covered us all. I remember we all thought it was funny at the time and started laughing. We weren’t laughing for long though. Without warning all the lights went out and we were plunged into total darkness. The laughter turned to screams and we were all scrabbling around in the dark.

Somehow we made it out to the car. Steve and Jessica were covered in scratches to their arms and faces, but they were too hysterical to talk about it. None of us wanted to go back into the cottage to retrieve our stuff. We all seemed to have our wallets and essentials, so we just abandoned our luggage and clothes and drove back to Edinburgh.

We don’t talk about it. There were was something in that cottage, that’s for sure. I will never forget those moments in total darkness. They will haunt me forever.

The End

Copyright: Kristian Fogarty 31/May/2018

My Uncle Pat – A portrait poem

I remember back when I was small

and foolish, though I’m still not tall

and just as daft, I remember him,

my Uncle Pat, seemed tall and thin.

As clear as day, he stands looming.

His voice was kind and clear, not booming.

The Kitchen, plain and brown and square

and neat and clean, as I stood there.

“Would you like something to drink and eat?”

My Uncle asks, I shuffle my feet.

Nervously I said “Yes please, I would,

Some of this fizzy orange would be good.”

And then I said, and I still regret it,

“You have to shake the drink to wake it.”

He took me at my word and shook

the bottle, up and down, I cried “Wait Look!”

The cap came off and fizzed, Oh Lor!

all over the nice clean kitchen floor.

And then behind me I heard a sound,

Through the open serving hatch, I found

My Mother and my Aunty too

laughing heartily at this much ado.

I still look back with thoughts quite grim,

My Uncle thought I’d played a joke on him.


Copyright Kristian Fogarty 23/March/2018