Once a man went to a Veterinary Doctor in India and said:

Doctor I have come on vacation for a month so that I can get myself treated fully within this period.

Doctor: I think you should go to the Doctor opposite to my clinic,see that board.

Man: No, Doctor, I have come to you only

Doctor: But, gentleman I am a Veterinary Doctor I am an animal specialist. I do not treat human beings.

Man: I know, Doctor very well and that is why I have come to you only...

Doctor: I can not, because you speak like me, think like me, talk like me which means you are a human being and not an animal.

Man: I know I am a human but litsen to my complaints first:

Doctor: OK. Tell me.

Man:

I sleep like a dog thinking about my work load whole night.

I get up in the morning like a horse

I go to work running like a deer

I work all the day like a donkey

I run around for 11 months like a bull without any holiday.

I wag my tail in front of all my bosses

I play with my children like a monkey if I get time

I am like a rabbit before my wife

Doctor: are you a programmer?

Man: Yes

Doctor: Instead of telling this long history you should have told me in the begining itself that you are are a programmer. Come man, no one can treat you better than me!!

 What is your salary per minute ???

Do u earn this much?????? count now....

A plane is on its way to Melbourne when a blonde in Economy Class gets up
and moves to the First Class section and sits down.
The flight attendant watches her do this and asks to see her ticket.

She then tells the blonde passenger that she paid for Economy and that she
will have to go and sit in the back
The blonde replies, "I'm blonde, I'm beautiful, I'm going to Melbourne and
I'm staying right here!"

The flight attendant goes into the cockpit and tells the pilot and co-pilot
that there is some blonde bimbo sitting in First Class that belongs in
Economy and won't move back to her seat.

The co-pilot goes back to the blonde and tries to explain that because she
only paid for Economy she is only entitled to an Economy place and she will
have to leave and return to her original seat.

The blonde replies, "I'm blonde, I'm beautiful, I'm going to Melbourne and
I'm staying right here!"

Exasperated the co-pilot tells the pilot that it was no use And that he
probably should have the police waiting when they land to arrest this
blonde woman that won't listen to reason.

The pilot says, "You say she's blonde? I'll handle this, I'm married to a
blonde, and I speak blonde!"
He goes back to the blonde, whispers in her ear, and she says, "Oh I'm
sorry - I had no idea,' gets up and moves back to her seat in the economy
section.
The flight attendant and co-pilot are amazed and asked him what he said to
make her move without any fuss.


The pilot replied, "I told her First Class isn't going to Melbourne."

**Hilarious Article by a Dutchman who visited India**



For the benefit of every Tom, Dick and Harry visiting India and daring
to drive on Indian roads, I am offering a few hints for survival. They
are applicable to every place in India except Bihar , where life outside
a vehicle is only marginally safer.


Indian road rules broadly operate within the domain of karma where you
do your best, and leave the results to your insurance company. The hints
are as follows: Do we drive on the left or right of the road? The answer
is "both".


Basically you start on the left of the road, unless it is occupied. In
that case, go to the right, unless that is also occupied. Then proceed
by occupying the next available gap, as in chess. Just trust your
instincts, ascertain the direction, and proceed. Adherence to road rules
leads to much misery and occasional fatality. Most drivers don't drive,
but just aim their vehicles in the generally intended direction. Don't
you get discouraged or underestimate yourself except for a belief in
reincarnation; the other drivers are not in any better position.


Don't stop at pedestrian crossings just because some fool wants to cross
the road. You may do so only if you enjoy being bumped in the back.
Pedestrians have been strictly instructed to cross only when traffic is
moving slowly or has come to a dead stop because some minister is in
town. Still some idiot may try to wade across, but then, let us not talk
ill of the dead.


Blowing your horn is not a sign of protest as in some countries. We horn
to express joy, resentment, frustration, romance and bare lust (two
brisk blasts),or just mobilize a dozing cow in the middle of the bazaar.


Keep informative books in the glove compartment. You may read them
during traffic jams, while awaiting the chief minister's motorcade, or
waiting for the rainwater to recede when over ground traffic meets
underground drainage.


Occasionally you might see what looks like a UFO with blinking colored
lights and weird sounds emanating from within. This is an illuminated
bus, full of happy pilgrims singing bhajans. These pilgrims go at
breakneck speed, seeking contact with the Almighty, often meeting with
success.


Auto Rickshaw (Baby Taxi): The result of a collision between a rickshaw
and an automobile, this three-wheeled vehicle works on an external
combustion engine that runs on a mixture of kerosene oil and creosote.
This triangular vehicle carries iron rods, gas cylinders or passengers
three times its weight and dimension, at an unspecified fare. After
careful geometric calculations, children are folded and packed into
these auto rickshaws until some children in the periphery are not in
contact with the vehicle at all.


Then their school bags are pushed into the microscopic gaps all round so
those minor collisions with other vehicles on the road cause no
permanent damage. Of course, the peripheral children are charged half
the fare and also learn Newton 's laws of motion enroute to school.
Auto-rickshaw drivers follow the road rules depicted in the film Ben
Hur, and are licensed to irritate.


Mopeds: The moped looks like an oil tin on wheels and makes noise like
an electric shaver. It runs 30 miles on a teaspoon of petrol and travels
at break-bottom speed. As the sides of the road are too rough for a
ride, the moped drivers tend to drive in the middle of the road; they
would rather drive under heavier vehicles instead of around them and are
often "mopped" off the tarmac.


Leaning Tower of Passes: Most bus passengers are given free passes and
during rush hours, there is absolute mayhem. There are passengers
hanging off other passengers, who in turn hang off the railings and the
overloaded bus leans dangerously, defying laws of gravity but obeying
laws of surface tension. As drivers get paid for overload (so many
Rupees per kg of passenger), no questions are ever asked. Steer clear of
these buses by a width of three passengers.


One-way Street: These boards are put up by traffic people to add jest in
their otherwise drab lives. Don't stick to the literal meaning and
proceed in one direction. In metaphysical terms, it means that you
cannot proceed in two directions at once. So drive as you like, in
reverse throughout, if you are the fussy type. Least I sound
hypercritical, I must add a positive point also. Rash and fast driving
in residential areas has been prevented by providing a "speed breaker";
two for each house. This mound, incidentally, covers the water and
drainage pipes for that residence and is left un-tarred for easy
identification by the corporation authorities, should they want to
recover the pipe for year-end accounting.


Night driving on Indian roads can be an exhilarating experience for
those with the mental make up of Genghis Khan. In a way, it is like
playing Russian roulette, because you do not know who amongst the
drivers is loaded. What looks like premature dawn on the horizon turns
out to be a truck attempting a speed record. On encountering it, just
pull partly into the field adjoining the road until the phenomenon passes.


Our roads do not have shoulders, but occasional boulders. Do not blink
your lights expecting reciprocation. The only dim thing in the truck is
the driver, and with the peg of illicit arrack (alcohol) he has had at
the last stop, his total cerebral functions add up to little more than a
naught.


Truck drivers are the James Bonds of India, and are licensed to kill.
Often you may encounter a single powerful beam of light about six feet
above the ground. This is not a super motorbike, but a truck approaching
you with a single light on, usually the left one. It could be the right
one, but never get too close to investigate. You may prove your point
posthumously.