The return of shit joke thread (incorporating the humour toilet)



He should be for that :poop:


What’s the difference between a mountain goat and a goldfish?

A goldfish mucks about in fountains.


In the same vein:

What’s the difference between Jamie Oliver and a long distance run?

One’s a pant in the country.


…or a constipated owl and a bad marksman?

One shoots but can’t hit…


:rolling_eyes: You’d better not be “here all day” :weary:


Yep, here all day to entertain you bruv :grin:


Great :unamused:



And the difference between a dachshund and a market trader?

The market trader bawls out his wares on the street…


My wife is leaving me because of my obsession with becoming a detective.

‘I think we should split up’, she said.

‘Good idea’, I replied, ‘We can cover more ground that way’.



Another sent to me this morning. This is a new take on an extremely old joke-

A man goes into a pub, and the barmaid asks what he wants. “I want to bury my face in your cleavage and lick the sweat from between your tits” he says. “You dirty git,” shouts the barmaid, "get out before I fetch my husband.“
The man apologizes and promises not to repeat his gaffe. The barmaid accepts this and asks him again what he wants. “I want to pull your knickers down, spread yogurt between the cheeks of your arse and lick it all off” he said
"You dirty filthy pervert. You’re banned. Get out.” she storms.
Again, the man apologizes and swears never ever to do it again. “One more chance” says the barmaid. “Now - what do you want?”
"I want to turn you upside down, fill your fanny with Guinness, and then drink every last drop."
The barmaid was furious with his personal intrusion, and runs upstairs to fetch her husband, who’s sitting quietly watching the telly.
“What’s up, love?” he asks.
“There’s a man in the bar who wants to put his head between my tits and lick the sweat off” she says.
“I’ll kill him. Where is he?” storms the husband.
“Then he said he wanted to pour yogurt down between my arse cheeks and lick it off” she screams.
“Right. He’s dead” says the husband, reaching for his cricket bat.
“Then he said he wanted to turn me upside down, fill my fanny with Guinness and then drink it all” she cries.
The husband puts down his bat and returns to his armchair,and switches the telly back on.
“Aren’t you going to do something about it?” she cries hysterically.
“Look, love - I’m not messing with someone who can drink 12 pints of fucking Guinness!”