Friday, October 10, 2014

Why Are Prison Officers Called Screws?

Prison warders, wardens, officers and guards are nicknamed screws, usually by the prisoners. The slang word screw originated in the Victorian era when a prison warder or officer would give a prisoner a pointless task as a punishment. Crank Machines One of these punishments was a crank machine used as hard labour. This crank machine would involve the inmate having to turn a handle on a drum which would be filled with sand or water to make it heavier. The prison guard could tighten a screw in the drum to make turning the handle harder. Prisoners would have to turn the handle a number of times as their punishment. Thus began the slang word screw to mean a prison officer.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

New books being released later in the year ........

1) The case of the broken window by Ivor Brick. 2) Naughty Schoolboys by Ben Dover and Tanya Hyde. 3) Try and Try Again by Percy Vere. 4) Rusty Bedsprings by I.P. Knightly. 5) My Knighthood by Neil Down. 6) Chinese Roof Decorating by C. Ling painter. 7) The Naughty Schoolboy by Enid Spanking.

Friday, February 28, 2014

The pharmacist .................

A nice, calm and respectable lady went into the pharmacy, walked up to the pharmacist, looked straight into his eyes, and said, "I'd like to buy some cyanide". The pharmacist asked, "Why in the world do you need cyanide?" The lady replied, "I need it to poison my husband." The pharmacist's eyes got big and he exclaimed, "Lord have mercy! I can't give you cyanide to kill your husband, that's against the law! I'll lose my license! They'll throw both of us in jail! All kinds of bad things will happen. Absolutely not! You CANNOT have any cyanide!" The lady reached into her purse and pulled out a picture of her husband in bed with the pharmacist's wife. The pharmacist looked at the picture and said, "You didn't tell me you had a prescription."

Saturday, January 04, 2014

Money Money ..............

There was a very rich Irishman who had a little dog. It meant the world to him. When the dog died, he went to the priest. “Father Murphy, my little dog is dead. I’d sure enough appreciate it if ye’d say a public mass fer ‘im.” “Sorry, Patrick,” said the priest,“We don’t say mass fer dogs ‘n’ the like. But you go on down there to the Protestant church.With their progressive thinking,who knows what they’ll do.” “Well, Father, I wouldn’t want to offend them. Do ya think a donation of a 100,000 pounds would be fitting fer such a service?” Patrick asked. “Now, Patrick, why didn’t ye tell me that there little dog was a Catholic in the first place!!!”