Funny Jokes - Invading Scotland - Nae verra wise!
Caesar and his invasion army land on the southern shores of Britain and immediately
begin terrorising the natives, burning villages, wreaking havoc and generally taking over.
The local English chieftains, whilst drinking tea, consider what to do. 'I think we should go
down there and give these Roman chappies a damn good thrashing' says one. The others agree
and the tribes charge at the invaders. Within hours the English are routed and lie bleeding
and dying on the battlefield, victims of the most advanced fighting force on the planet. This story
is repeated as the Roman army pushes north. Local chieftains and tribes are defeated by the
hundred, few escape and the Romans are beginning to enjoy themselves. Eventually the army
crosses the Scottish Border and camps beneath a mist enshrouded mountain. After an
uncomfortable night listening to strange bagpipe music drifting down from the hills Caesar looks out of
his tent and sees a lone unarmed Scotsman, naked to the waist and wearing only a kilt standing
on the summit. 'Come on then!' taunts the lone Scot to the Roman army below. Caesar
commands six legionnaires to climb the hill and deal with the native. The legionnaires shuffle off
and ascend into the highland mist which closes about them. The army below hears screams and
groans. The mist opens and the lone Scotsman comes dancing back to the summit - not a mark on him - and taunts the army 'Come on then, is that all you've got?' Caesar is now mightily
displeased and orders two hundred legionnaires and ten chariots up the hill. The mist closes and
the army listens in dread for the next two hours as the air is rent by the screams of dying men
and horses.
The screams suddenly stop and a single chariot wheel rolls to a stop by Caesar 's feet.
The mist opens once more to reveal the Scotsman, still unmarked, gesticulating to the
Romans and displaying a remarkably hairy backside as he raises his kilt in defiance. Caesar is by
now irate in the extreme and orders everyone to attack. Three thousand legionnaires, four hundred
chariots and sixteen cook wagons thunder up the mountain and once more grey mist closes
about them.
For a day and a night the sounds of terrible battle echo amongst the hills and glens.
Caesar sitting on his horse on the plain below is a veteran of many campaigns but he cannot
remember hearing such sounds of suffering, the crash of weapons is deafening, the dying
screams and gurgles of men and animals intolerable. As he waits for news of the battle one badly
maimed legionnaire returns dragging his mangled body from tuft of grass to tuft of grass with
the only arm he has left. He stops below Caesar's horse and looks up with his one good eye
at his illustrious leader.....'Caesar' he croaks 'Caesar, don't go! It's a trap' 'There's two of
them!'
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