Demonstone

That's my cue to repost this mashup of bar jokes and grammar nerd principles! An Oxford comma walks into a bar, where it spends the evening watching the television, getting drunk, and smoking cigars. A dangling participle walks into a bar. Enjoying a cocktail and chatting with the bartender, the evening passes pleasantly. A bar was walked into by the passive voice. An oxymoron walked into a bar, and the silence was deafening. Two quotation marks walk into a “bar.” A malapropism walks into a bar, looking for all intensive purposes like a wolf in cheap clothing, muttering epitaphs and casting dispersions on his magnificent other, who takes him for granite. Hyperbole totally rips into this insane bar and absolutely destroys everything. A question mark walks into a bar? A non sequitur walks into a bar. In a strong wind, even turkeys can fly. Papyrus and Comic Sans walk into a bar. The bartender says, “Get out — we don’t serve your type.” A mixed metaphor walks into a bar, seeing the handwriting on the wall but hoping to nip it in the bud. A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves. Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They converse. They depart. A synonym strolls into a tavern. At the end of the day, a cliché walks into a bar — fresh as a daisy, cute as a button, and sharp as a tack. A run-on sentence walks into a bar it starts flirting. With a cute little sentence fragment. Falling slowly, softly falling, the chiasmus collapses to the bar floor. A figure of speech literally walks into a bar and ends up getting figuratively hammered. An allusion walks into a bar, despite the fact that alcohol is its Achilles heel. The subjunctive would have walked into a bar, had it only known. A misplaced modifier walks into a bar owned by a man with a glass eye named Ralph. The past, present, and future walked into a bar. It was tense. A dyslexic walks into a bra. A verb walks into a bar, sees a beautiful noun, and suggests they conjugate. The noun declines. A simile walks into a bar, as parched as a desert. A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to forget. A hyphenated word and a non-hyphenated word walk into a bar and the bartender nearly chokes on the irony.

They're not even supposed to be on that ground.

Well, that didn't take long. They've already made a movie about it. The good news is that Steven May doesn't have a starring role.

Outstanding. That should be compulsory viewing for all MFC fans, particularly those who weren't fortunate enough to see Robbie running around in the red and blue.

Three conspiracy theorists walk into a bar. You can't tell me that's just a coincidence.

A: Nah, this is Paranoid. Who's that fresh-faced young singer?

Are we talking Glenhuntly St Anthony's Football Club? If so, two of my mates played there circa 1979/80. I attended one of their Sportsman's Nights (are they still a thing?) which was hosted by Leon Weigard and featured Max Walker, big Mick Nolan and little Peter Bakos (jockey). Huge, huge night. Didn't make it into work the next day.

I'm proud to say that I've won every single quiz this year.

My second team are the Casey Demons.

Could @Deemania since 56 be the username of Anthony Ingerson?

Bryon Pickett was a Violent Crumbler.

Could the whole deal be a huge weight on his shoulders? 16 Tons is a huge weight, let's face it.

Or maybe he was suggesting that Number 16 will become a Starr? Bailey Laurie to be be nicknamed "Ringo" henceforth.

That might explain why he was wearing an eye patch at the time.

McHale played 261 games for Collingwood from 1903 to 1920, a huge number for that era. He won one GF as a player, one as playing Coach and seven more as Coach. 191 of his games were consecutive, which was the VFL record at the time until broken by Jack Titus in 1943. As we all know, Jim Stynes then became the new record holder with 244 but will likely be passed in 2025 as Collingwood's Jack Crisp needs only eight more games to take the mantle.