fucking hell
I hope so, because I canât play a chuffing harp.
Somebody threw a bottle of Omega 3 capsules at me.
Luckily my injuries were only super fish oil.
Life is all about perspective.
For instance, I have an ungrateful bastard of a friend who never has to do his own cooking or washing, pays no rent, watches as much telly as he wants, works-out twice a day, reads two books a week and has sex two or three times a day!
Yet every day he complains about how much he hates prisonâŚ
Todayâs question is âWhich one is Emily?â
Depends if itâs the weekend or not
Nothing at-all wrong with being gay - nor any of the countless increments between Alice and Albert - just made me laugh.
Itâs not big enough.
I had a mate doing a synthetic chemistry PhD. He had spent some months making and then purifying whatever exotic compound it was that he was after. At the end of one long day he picked up the glass vessel containing it to carry it across from one bench to another without considering that he had just taken it OFF THE BOIL.
He said afterwards itâs surprising how long you can suppress pain for when the alternative is dropping something youâve invested so much time in. And anyway, burns heal in the young.
Ooof!
Closest I came to that kind of experience was in school - I used to pour leftovers from every-and-any chemistry experiment into a large flask in a cupboard under the workbench. Perhaps unsurprisingly, one day said flask exploded with alarming force - blew the cupboard door clean off and temporarily deafened those of us near it. No idea why, it wasnât stoppered, but something hit the sweetspot of entropy and "BANG!"
Unfamiliar as I was with the concept of âplausible deniabilityâ I just lied my worthless arse off - and got grassed-up by most of the rest of the class. Deputy head - âPickerâ Morgan - was by far the worst choice to get the cane from⌠Had it coming to be fair.
We made silver acetylide at school once. That went bang, but then it was supposed to.
I recall making dinitroglycerine at A-level. I had smartened-up enough by then not to consider pursuing the final stage of nitrationâŚ
Cop a load of this beauty you feckers:
A bloke was sitting at the side of the road crying his eyes out, his dead hamster in his hands.
A fairy godmother asked him what the matter was. He said âI loved my pet hamster and it just died â.
The fairy godmother said âWell I canât bring it back to life, but I can suggest that you can make some good of the situationâ.
The bloke asked âHow do I do that ?â
The fairy godmother replied âGo home put the hamster in a pan and add a bag of sugar. Heat the pan up stirring well and simmer for an hour. Allow to cool, pour it onto your garden and see what happensâ.
The bloke did exactly as she suggested. The next day, he went into the garden and there were masses of daffodils everywhere!
He ran back to the road where heâd seen the fairy godmother and she reappeared and asked the bloke how heâd got on.
He said âItâs fantastic, there are daffodils everywhere!â
The fairy godmother replied âThatâs really strange, you normally get tulips from hamster jam!!
I remember Frank Muir telling that âjokeâ circa 1964 
Meh !
Dinosaur humour of the best sort that perfectly matches the title of this thread. I can recall the time at playschool when we always called Amsterdam âHamsterjamâ because of that simply brilliant joke. A star