My Blog: jokes funny jokes
Rusty on the contrary
About 15 years ago it was. Immediately after the release of several lieutenants were sent to serve in the GDR. And the train was going through Poland and the GDR to Germany (or West Berlin, I will not say for sure). Naturally, even in Poland (or earlier) they began to celebrate, then, in short, two or three people were dead drunk locked in a compartment, overslept the GDR, the customs of both Germanias in their amazing way pro ... la, and they are from a great hangover, but with a full parade (a part of a new profit) left at the station. Look - around Germany, as it should be ... Only people something on the Russian form somehow look strange. They also tried to buy, but did not understand the course ... Then, of course, they were tied up ... But since all this happened was a blunder of FRG border troops, while our bosses did not take away their bosses, they lived in the hotel at the expense of German services, which have spoiled! And in the GDR, according to rumors, they were not heavily screwed, as they understood - the hangover and not there will lead, at the same time checked the vigilance of the potential enemy.
Problems with the hard disk
A screw was brought to work for repairs. On the floppy disk that was brought with the screw was the text. Processed - threw caps-headers, replaced the names, names and digits with the symbol "@". Translated into the format of "plain text", to facilitate the volume. I did not change anything !!! ---------------------------------------- Technical Director of OOO Prokom-Electronics from the Commander V / H ### Colonel ### Request. I ask you to rewrite from the hard disk MODEL 2 B 010 H 1 11 A PCBA 05 A UNIQUE 11 A CODE WAN 21 PBO SILINDERS 1638 NEASDS 16 SESTORS: 63 LBA 20012832 QUANTUM FIRЕBAL BY MAXTOR Makhtor 541 DX 5400 RPM 10 Gb Ultrata ATA / 100 Driving Drives 1 Gb = 1,000,000,000 Bутееs 2 b 010 H 1110511 Mfg Date 300 СT 2001 ER Mаde in Singarоr (2) К, M, B, A Information "My Documents" from the disk "Цэ". What was: - The computer stopped rebooting and l-t ### on its own decided to fix it. It turned out that the computer does not perform the boot function from the hard drive - it turns on and the tutus stops. L-m ### extracted the hard drive from the computer case, opened the top cover and smeared the mirror surface with liquid lubricant TsIATIM-201 GOST 6267-74 to slip the reader's node, but it did not fail and the information "My Documents" remained inaccessible, Because the computer did not run the Windows program at all. After personally checking the consequences of the actions of L-ta ### I found out that inside the hard drive there is no node of the reader, apparently by inaccurate actions, applying liquid lubricant TSIATIM-201 GOST 6267-74 l-t it broke and removed, for which it will be punished. It is necessary to install the information reader node and rewrite information from the "My Documents" folder from the "ZE" disk, since it is necessary for the operational operation of the I / O. In the process of repair, no additional lubrication is necessary since the lubricant TsIATIM-201 GOST 6267-74 is of very high quality and is supplied to our B / H directly from the Omsknefteorgsintez plant and used on a large number of units and aggregates of cars with diesel engines. (not Chinese poddelka). I ask you to copy the contents of the "My Documents" folder from the "CD" disk to the CD-RW CD-ROM. Further actions with the hard disk in order to save your time can not be made, l-t ### itself will be able to install it into the computer case and restart it with the Windows program. The order of payment according to the invoice is guaranteed. Colonel ### W / H ###
In Kazan there is a bridge built in honor of the millennium of the city, called "Millennium", the central pillar of which looks like a huge letter "M" and towers over it for thirty meters. The other day we are passing along this bridge, suddenly the look of the hopper in the back seat was pushed (5 years) stops on the pedestal, carefully examining it, he said: "Mom, look, McDonald's!"
It was a hot summer day. Peak hour. I'm standing in a crowded bus. It's stuffy, hot, dusty, and it's impossible to move, just barely breathing. Then I feel that something solid rested against my groin. Well, I think, the angle of a suitcase or a diplomat. I'm trying to stand sideways. Does not work. It hurts already, eggs are not official ones. And this corner, damn it, all pret and pun. And before the stop is still far away. I'm starting to look around with an outraged look, like, whose suitcase ?! And then I look down and see that ... it's not a damn thing in the suitcase corner, but the nose of some giant, shaggy dog (like St. Bernard) with red eyes. I was stunned, my whole life flew before my eyes. Well, everyone, I think, came, schA she told me ka-a-ak ... Well, now, I'm standing, afraid to breathe (thoughts all climb, hell knows, the psychology of dogs) and look pleadingly into the eyes of this dog who also seems not happy with his position and looks at me from below upwards with his red good-natured eyes. And then, damn, because of the powerful influx of adrenaline and nervous tension, my "brother" begins to "wake up." All! I'm already on the verge of a nervous breakdown or fainting. And the "brother" already stood with might and main, straightened himself proudly. She looked at me in surprise and tried to remove her face. Did not work out. We drove somewhere for a minute, but it seemed to me that the hour was passing. When I got out of the bus, it felt like I was born again.
Washing vacuum cleaner
I heard a couple of years ago a story about how a man could not be proud of his new automatic machine, but not because he was washing himself, but because in the absence of hot water with the help of this same washing machine, you could easy to get (for bathing, ect) hot water. And in my case, after the acquisition of a brand new vacuum cleaner, the joy arose not from the fact that the house was somehow cleaner with the same level of effort expended, but from the fact that it was surprisingly easy to chase with this vacuum cleaner for cockroaches, flies, mosquitoes, spiders and our other eternal neighbors. Soon, as expected, thanks to my vacuum cleaner cockroaches disappeared altogether (by the way, I advise you to know only places), but the hunting purpose of my vacuum cleaner is known to this day. Now, in fact, the story itself. A couple of days ago I decide to buy a new washing vacuum cleaner, and give the old one (2 years) to my parents, and I inform them by phone. Mom's reaction was instantaneous: - You are THEM now and BUY going ?! Caring for our lesser brothers, damn it.
We had a dispatcher on the Non-abstention. She was already at an age, so with mild strangeness, but her aunt is absolutely wonderful. And now she gives me a challenge once. Type man 45 years old, the reason - turned yellow. Well, I'm coming too. A neighbor opens it, and immediately leads me decisively into the communal area. Turns into a room where in an incredible mess and stench on the floor sits an unimaginable bearded, unkempt and dirty man. The neighbor triumphantly: "Look at you! Look at the kitchen in the sink !!!". A man is quite friendly, and, characteristically, figuratively and understandably explains that in the first place he was pissing, pissing and pissing where he wants. And secondly, he did not call me. Therefore, I would be extremely grateful if I put it where I came from. The client's desire is the law, and I start to make my way to the exit. But, since the man is not completely yellow, I want to know where exactly this excuse to call came from. After a brief investigation, I find out how it was. The neighbor asked to call her husband in the First-minute. And he told our dispatcher that "Neighbor Vaashche, in kind, was RIPED." Well, she decided that he called the color inaccurately ...
Wait, let everyone fall asleep
It happened with one of my many acquaintances. In the morning after a joint drinking, I wake up and remember when and where we finished drinking yesterday, how did I get home and where are my drinking companions? (pressing questions, is not it?) I did not achieve the result from the splitting head, I decided first to put myself in order, and only then to tackle all these problems. But only I was going to go to the shower, as one of my yesterday's buddies came. Appearance is something that looks like usd bubble gum. That's from him, actually, I heard this story. After we parted, he was drawn to the ladies. It was indecent for one to go, but he found one-on-one right away. So, 2 x 2 they came out, only here is the room alone. Well, as expected, we sat and drank. The girls are ready and ready ... Well, they scattered in the corners. The second was kicked off, and my companion was encouraged: "Wait, let everyone fall asleep ... When he told me this, at this very moment he got so excited that I had to give him water." He drank, but I can not wait, I to him: - Well, so what? What's next? .. He drained the water, carefully put the glass on the table, then looked at me with a withering glance and said: "Something ... I fell asleep!"
Toward the tower ...
There was one freak in our company, from the Asian brothers. Sultan ... why do I forget that already. A harmless, quiet boy, with whom all sorts of minor troubles constantly happened. Then the defensive ditch will fall down during the march-throw, and there half a meter wide and through it the whole platoon has already crossed, then the tree will not notice on the run, but it is one per hectare of field, then the honorary with the left hand will give honor to the duty officer in part ... In general, constantly he was unlucky in every detail. We entered the guard, winter time, went to the post in the morning Sultanchik. I was sitting on the phones, the calls from the sentries took me, that everything was fine. reading a book, distracted sometimes on the clock - do they observe a 10-minute period. I notice that the Sultan does not call for 20 minutes. Well, I think maybe he saw the bullfinch and forgot about everything, maybe he was still looking at something ... After half an hour, he called. Naturally, I'm into it - why do not you call. The answer is somehow indistinct "The tower was stuck, the phone was far away, it could not ring." A minute I digest what I heard, then I lay down the receiver. "He climbed to the tower ..." What kind of garbage? .. He returns from his post, I first drag him into the canteen guardroom, drink tea and find out what "the tower has stuck" for. To which he told me, barely moving his tongue: - I stand, I look at the tower, look at the post. Then I wanted to drink, however. I can not get down from the tower, I can eat snow, but there is not snow on the tower. I look - a pillar in the frost all over, rubbed his hand - I got little water. Well, I took it and licked it ... (for those who do not know - in the cold to a metal object you can easily get stuck, especially by a wet organ . - I stand, I mean, I see - the language stuck to the post. I blew on him - and he will not break. I can not phone, he is far away. From the machine gun I'm afraid to kill the cap head. I stood there for a minute and then closed my eyes and pulled my head back - opened my eyes, and the pipe hangs the tongue, so I could not call, I was sick, but ... I do not know how I survived without injuries from rzhachki all his story, but these "rags" I remember still smiling ...
Pineapples in champagne
Was 1991 year. We sat next to a friend in an old house, in a four-room apartment, already that day. Since all were not well-off students, and the time was still "not rich", the money ran out and we, the four of us (all the boys), sat in the kitchen and drank vodka darkly, eating black bread and washing water from the tap. There is a ring at the door. It turns out that this was the classmate of the owner of the apartment who worked on television and at that time received good money. He came with a lady, and asked them to lock them in the central (the most chic room, with a pre-revolutionary "travohrom") room, to indulge in carnal pleasures. We were even more dejected and more grimly continued our miserable libation. About 40 minutes later a heart-rending cry was heard: "Cyril! - (name of the owner of the apartment). - Carry champagne and fruit ANYWHERE! We almost killed him ...
There were four of us at one party. 2 to 2. Drank, ate, danced, but my friend heavily vodka nakushalsya and went (running) to the toilet, where he was stuck for a couple of hours. At this time I managed to do my lustful deeds with one of the "ladies" and sent them home. I got ready for bed. I lie, I smoke. At this time, the comrade swam into the room and found out that the virgins had left, disappointedly went to bed. I closed the door to his room and turned on the radio. The charming voice of the presenter led to the fact that after a few seconds a friend flies into my room and yells: - WHERE IS IT ?! . I answered: - Wan, they left. "Who's talking here?" He looks around the room. - THE GIRL !!!
Disappearance of the sign
It was last summer. Some kind of carrion tore off my front number plate from my car. I leave in the morning, I look - no. And clearly torn together with a plastic holder. The first traffic policeman stops. However, after my explanations, no sanctions were followed. However, it was said that you need to go to the district police station, get a certificate of loss of the number, with which to go to the traffic police department and get a new number. I come to the ROVD, I say to the duty officer - this kind of information is needed. He says - go to operas, they all know what to do. The opera is sent to the investigator. And then the investigator explains to me the whole complexity of the seemingly simple problem. It turns out that if I write that the number was stolen, then it would be necessary to start a business, carry out certain operational measures, put the number on the wanted list, etc. If I write that the number is lost, I will not be given any help, as I myself am guilty and if somewhere this number will take part in crime, then I will have problems. In how! I, naturally, say that I will write a statement that the number was stolen. Then the inquirer asks where I am registered. I'm speaking in Yasenevo. He, happily says that this is not our district and blow into your police department. I add that I live with my wife here and write that the room was also stolen here. Sadly looking at me ("he still got the bastard"), the investigator gets all kinds of applications, interview protocols, interrogation, etc., and begins to wail pitifully, like, poor he is unhappy, he fucking needs it, now it is necessary to conduct all sorts of inspections, to open up business, to put almost ambushes and, most importantly, to write a bunch of all kinds of papers about the operational activities that have been carried out, well, in general, to fulfill the full program, and on it and so on, and all sorts of serious cases ponavshali and not breathe out and etc., etc. After counting so ten minutes, re ulyarno looking at me - I do not change my mind whether, and he realized that his problems touched me, but without the numbers I'm not going to ride, the investigator, heavy sigh, thinking. Suddenly his face illuminates some kind of happy thought and he screams into the open door into the corridor: "Muzhiks, and the hurricane in Moscow that week when he was?" In response, from somewhere: - On Wednesday! Investigator - me: - Oh! Write - on Wednesday, such and such a number, I, such and such such, found a missing license plate. There was a strong wind and, apparently, the license plate was knocked down by its impulses ... Here I am connected: - The downpour was still strong. The inquirer, already looking approvingly at me: - ... or was washed away by the streams of water from a heavy downpour. The application was written, registered, other documents from the investigator were attached to it, all this was filed in a separate folder "Case No ... Open - Then, Revealed - This Day." I received a certificate, and the contented investigator with a folder under his arm somewhere rode away. Probably, for a medal ...
And who is it that came to us?
A certain grandmother was waiting for her, not yet an old one, to visit her granddaughter. By the time he arrived, everyone in the kitchen was busy, and looked out the window: are not they leading a loved one. At last I waited, I saw through the window, as a daughter and a child entered the entrance. In a joyful impatience, a woman came to the stairwell and crouched down by the elevator. After a few seconds, the elevator doors opened ... Lady sweet, bad voice with joy, sang: "And who is it there came to us?" ... A policeman came out of the elevator. For a moment they looked at each other - the woman was beating with laughter, not having time to say a word. The guard of the order also silently retreated, that he thought - no one recognized.
There was an ento with my good friend, a historian. He once went about his historical affairs to Belarus, another year in 1996. And I got to talking to one local in the village. Well, there, now, here, the weather, the harvest ... But the historian, you know, and the conversation gradually moved away to the second world, to the partisans, and to the weapons that remained in those forests from the war. A local-then a weapon that's been collecting fifty years. And then where? He asks - where, then, is all this a terrible echo of the war? .. The grandfather answers: - Who handed over, who did so little gesheft did ... I myself found a mine of anti-personnel mines once ... - And where? Where is the drawer? .. - Well, I was afraid ... I'm in the basement of a hut abandoned here in the village, and shoval. - Well? - And it was demolished, a hut something ... And on that place some of the city built a brick cottage. -?!? And the grandfather responds with Olympic tranquility and inimitable Belarusian accent: "That I, I-that haravar pit - yashshyk there is my part ... And yan gavarit meyane - tyba, didu, adyn already yashshyk only boozan ... Yes shto .. Let him stay.
Mom, but who am I?
It was my daughter of 5 years. On the TV discussed the signs of the zodiac, the eastern calendar and other reasons for the horoscopes. The child became interested, listened attentively and asked: "Mom, but who am I?" "You're a horse for the year." - And who else? - For a month - Aries, a lamb. - Yes, and here I am also a beast ...
My chief - chief of the Department of Internal Affairs of one of the administrative districts of Moscow was responsible for this very district. And we went for a drive with checks on this very district in structure of actually the chief, me (the inspector of this department) as adjutant and the driver (accordingly, our department Having glanced at one of the stationary posts, they saw in the monkey a drunken peasant. The chief asked the duty questions, they say, for what and how many ... Here the senior of the whole attire in this post, brave junior lieutenant - only graduated from the secondary school of militia and says that he is going to write petty hooliganism on this peasant ... - For what? "And this peasant was pissing on the tent ..." "Uh-huh." Well, if you hunt, then write, only in the report, point out, reveal what kind of actions you see antisocial actions ... The younger lieutenant nodded, sat down to write, and we decided to stay there, we stand smoking, we talk with sergeants. After about 10 minutes, a satisfied Mamley comes out and holds out a report, all supposedly written. We read: "... in the actions of the group of ХХХХХ, signs of antisocial behavior are seen, expressed in the fact that a given citizen revealing a penis, waving it in a radius of about half a meter, embarrassing passers-by ...". We slowly slide to the ground, the chef sniffed meaningfully, broke the report and said: - For such a radius it is necessary to set it as an example, and not to court to drag ...
Hymn in the sauna
There was (and there is) one friend of mine, let's call him Vasya. Wonderful guy and much for all sorts of life jokes, and absolutely without straining. Somehow these jokes come out of him, and then we remember them in a year and, probably, we will transfer them from mouth to mouth to the younger generation. So, it happened several years ago in Chisinau, on the first of December. It should be noted that in Moldova this is a great holiday, the Day of the Great Reunion, that is, a certain number of years ago, Moldova has voluntarily joined Romania. But that's not the point. The above-mentioned Vasya is a big man of himself in everything that concerns the Romanian language (which has been recognized for several years as official), and knows by heart everything that concerns the history of Romania and, in particular, Moldova. But this is also not the most important thing. So, on December 1 his friends are invited to the sauna - there is an excuse why not take a walk, and hell with it, with nationality. Vasya went to the sauna right from work, that is, in a solid suit, with a tie and ... with a sheepskin coat on his head (for those who do not know - a sheepskin coat for a Moldovan is the same as a hats for a jigit, I mean the national head dress). They come to the sauna, which means they start drinking. They drink well, only cognac. Drink as citizens of sovereign Moldova, it means - a lot. At some point they realize that there is not enough communication with the opposite sex and think about it - Chernyshevsky's novel "What to do?" Vasya throws an idea about the representatives of the ancient profession, of course, in the purest Romanian, and all with enthusiasm and ecstasy rush to call any agencies, the blessing has divorced their uncountable number. Agree. Vasya insists on the obligatory presence of a blonde with blue eyes and large breasts. Have agreed. While the girls will come, they again drink. Girls come. Share in pairs and Vasya takes that very busty blue-eyed blonde. The girl, I must say, elegant. And go to the Mirror Hall. Everyone guessed that the hall was completely covered with mirrors, even the ceiling. Five minutes passed, everyone starts to relax and, suddenly heard the anthem of Moldova, imagine, someone (and it was in the sauna) is singing a hymn! Of course, it was Vasya. Everyone became interested, opened the door and saw the oil painting: - Absolutely naked Vasya stands, with a morally happy expression, dressed only in a kushma and a hymn. The blonde stands before him on his knees and performs a procedure called blowjobs in the people. At some point, she lifts her head and asks: - Maybe it's better to take off your hat? Smirking, Vasya shakes his head negatively, and for stability rests his hand in the mirror, and estessno continues to bawl. When this all comes to an end, he wipes sweat from his forehead with a sweat, the sauna after all, and says: "So you Russians need it." The girl, stupid with such a statement, looks at him intently and begins to sing, with a thin voice, proudly straightened, so, probably, the partisans sang during the execution, you will not believe "Union of the indestructible republics of the free" ... We were all on the floor. But that is not all. Was Vasya staring at the girl in astonishment, so that the prostitute sang the anthem? But he listens to the end, then he takes off the kushma, stabs her head and loudly declares: "Yes, women have not yet been transferred to Russia ... Let's go and drink."
At one friend in the office on the eve of March 8, the administration decided to congratulate the employees in an original way. We ordered a large poster with a congratulatory inscription such as "Dear women, Congratulations ... (and so on)." We hung this poster over the central entrance to the institution. History does not say at what exact moment it happened, but a strong wind rose and the poster could not stand it. A large piece of it broke away from him, and everyone was pleased to see a new inscription above the door - "Dear Women."
Nothing will happen
It was in St. Petersburg this summer. I came there for 3 days - to raise the level of internal culture For a long time wanted. I go on a run at all excursions, monuments, etc., in order to raise something as high as possible. And here is an excursion to Peterhof. Krasotischa, weather - class. I'm in ecstasy (aesthetic). Muzhichonka our driver, bald and this looks like a very decent family man and father, let me talk with me on all sorts of cultural topics and discuss the beauty of the city. The whole tour of the houses was sold out, and we are all talking. And then it turns out that I practically did not see anything, and in the evening I had to leave: (And so he unobtrusively so offers me to show all the charms of architecture that I do not understand.) Well, I timidly agree so and I hint at Every Case that I'm a modest girl "Then, our conversation:" Yes, do not worry, nothing will happen. "" ... and no hints and harassment? "" No, dear child, what harassment, we're adults. "" We'll walk in a friendly way, yes? "" Of course , I tell you, nothing will happen, literally not a bit of anything. "" Good ... "(quietly) not a bit ... I HAVE ME There's a grain ... In the customs.
Are you going to Moscow?
It was in the late 70's. I return from the construction team from Kazakhstan alone. The commander gave money only to the road. I got to Kuibyshev (now Samara), bought a plane ticket to Moscow. I asked some guy, far, they say, here is the airport. "Nearby," - he replies. I quietly walked around the city, and when there was an hour before departure, I catch a taxi and ask to be dropped off to the airport. Half an hour later I began to guess that it was not so close to go. The taxi driver dispelled my doubts, saying that "still only an hour." I do not know what to do (there is not enough money for a taxi, it's too late for a plane, it's useless to go out in the middle of the Zhigulevsky mountains). I'm driving while I'm lucky, and I think - what will happen. One problem soon resolved - hooked fellow traveler, it is already easier, at least the taxi driver will not be beaten for the penny that I give him. We drive up to the deserted airport. An excited woman runs up to the car and asks: "Are you going to Moscow?" "Yes," I answer. "Where you disappear," she yells, "we're delaying the airplane for half an hour already." Faster to land! Absolutely stunned by such a surprise, I still got on the plane successfully. The real truth!
Why did the bullet get stuck?
It was in the summer of 85. Our infantry battalion conducted training firing ranges. I, as a sergeant-major, had to provide for the shooting of sergeants. We had one sergeant in the battalion (a part-time pig, and a Dargin by nationality). So this Dargin man never cleaned his machine, as well as what I did not just persuade him. After a month of persuasion, I realized that my hands are more expensive and spat on him. So, this sergeant takes the machine gun and lies down on the firing line. The first stage and the bullet stuck in the trunk. To dislodge the bullet, I pour oil into the barrel and lean against the wall of the operator's booth. After that I give my machine and start the exercise from the beginning. The Dargin did not have time to lie down on the firing line, as I hear behind the command: "Stop the occupation." I turn around, and I see the chief of staff of the regiment standing. He came to see how the battalion was shooting. It should be noted that the chief of staff was a model of a Soviet officer (195 cm tall, the form sat on it better than painted on posters). Around a terrible dust (near the tankcade), and he is pressed, boots shine. And so, the Chief of Staff (NS) comes up to us and asks: - Why did the rifle abandon that, since soon the demobilization and weapons can be thrown anywhere? I: - The bullet in the trunk is stuck. I must say that NSh everything, about which you can get dirty, took only two fingers. Here he takes so gently for the trunk of the machine gun, butt up and tries to look into the trunk (I'm not lying). Now imagine what happened. All the oil that was in the trunk, and it still became dirty from carbon deposits, flows directly into the eye, and then onto the tie, shirt and trousers. And here stands this model of a Soviet officer, all bathed in oil, and portrays himself Kutuzov, because one eye because of the oil does not see anything. But we saw this sight for a very short time, since the NS quickly came to, took the submachine gun by the barrel with both arms and gently asks: "Whose machine is this?" I will soon be home and I, like Pavlik Morozov, honestly admit that the pork gun is automatic. Further, between the pigeon and the furious NS, the following dialogue took place, during which the latter stood with an automatic weapon raised overhead. NSH: - Why are you, a bad person, not cleaning weapons? Pig: - Cleaned. NSH: - I did not clean! Pig: - Cleaned. NSH: - I did not clean !!! .. And so ten times. After which NS as more educated, and therefore more cunning, decided to drive the pigeon into the corner with his question: - And why then the bullet in the trunk got stuck, the chock you are not Russian? Pig, thinking for a split second, gave the answer: - Bullet thick caught!
Invalids out of turn
It was during the years of the general deficit. One of my friends stood in line for ski boots and was afraid that he would not get it. Suddenly he sees a sign "The Invalids of the Patriotic War are served out of turn" And his father is disabled. Without one foot! He quickly brought his father, he crashed his way to the counter and requires a ski boots! The queue is in a rage - what are you, old sniveller, mountain skiing! And he, imperturbably so: - We do not set records, we just need to come down from the mountain!
The Navy of the USSR. An old dock came out of the repair dock, which could no longer compete with the most likely adversary, but for educational purposes it was still quite good. After the repairs, it is necessary for the seamen to take the boat and carefully check everything, for what purpose, and the boat was sent to a small hike. We dive for a short time. And to check the instruments, the boatswain remains in the deckhouse in the deck superstructure, from which the boat is operated in a semi-submerged position. In fact, there is no one to be immersed when you dive, but you need to check the devices ... Okay, they got him up there and went under the water. Everything goes according to plan, and suddenly the foreman, standing on the rudders of the depth, reports: "The boat does not obey the helm, I can not keep the depth!" The commander to him - exactly, the depth gauge needle creeps nervously on the scale. Commander: - Blow out the ballast! The boat is picking up the nose, but the arrow continues to fall, rapidly approaching the mark of the maximum permissible depth. - Blow out the main ballast! The boat trembles and buzzes, the arrow falls on the limiter and freezes. Everything in the command compartment is wet and blue, they are waiting for rivets to rush and the body will swing. At this moment, the boat shakes and it becomes on a smooth keel. Silence. - Pee # dec. They lay down on the ground ... All are afraid to move. The stardom asked in a depressed voice: "I wonder how much is over us? .. The officers look at each other, no one dares to check on the map. And then someone remembers: - Boatswain !!! The boatswain's obvious shims - the portholes in the superstructure had to be squeezed out a long time ago. The commander without any hope picks up the receiver and presses the call button: - Cutting? - Listen listening! - the brisk voice of the boatswain is heard, - Commander, what are we drifting over the surface of the drift? The commander silently rushes to the periscope: the sun, the seagulls, the clouds ... In general, only because the sea stayed another day, the commander and all who were in the command compartment had time to cool down and self-kill the freaks of the horsemen who pumped air into the depth gauge, not become. Everything was limited to a simple report.