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Just found out I’ve been kicked out of my local Satanist Club 
. Ungrateful bastards the sacrifices I’ve made for them.
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I ran into an old mate of mine last night. Eventually I asked him “What are you doing these days?”
“I prepare meals for the homeless, drug addicts, piss heads and down and outs.” He answered.
I said, “Oh, are you working for the Salvation Army?”
“No. I’m a chef in a Wetherspoons!” he sighed in disappointment.
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An old farm worker walks into a Barber’s shop and asks for a shave and a haircut.
He tells the barber he can’t get a clean shave himself because his cheeks are so wrinkled from age and working outside for many years. The barber gets a small wooden ball from a cup and asks the old boy to put it inside his cheek to spread the skin.
Once finished, the old boy is very pleased with the shave and tells the barber it’s the best he’s had in many years.
“But what would have happened had I swalled the little ball?” he asked.
“I’d just ask you to bring it back in a couple of days, as everyone else does.”
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That one has been recycled as many times as the shaving ball…
I am reminded of my first year at uni… the SU gents toilet was a hotspot of such activity. Sticky Nicky was marched out of the building more than once, along with her colony of crabs which she cultivated throughout her degree.
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“I should imagine that the conditions in the cockpit are totally unimaginable.”
“Schumacher wouldn’t have let him past voluntarily. Of course he did it voluntarily, but he had to do it.”
Murray Walker
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Too many Murrayisms to list.
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird’s chest.
After a moment or two, the vet shook his head and sadly said, “I’m sorry, your duck, Cuddles, has passed away.”
The distressed woman wailed, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am sure. Your duck is dead,” replied the vet…
“How can you be so sure?” she protested… “I mean you haven’t done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something.”
The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room. He returned a few minutes later with a black Labrador Retriever. As the duck’s owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room. A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.
The vet looked at the woman and said, “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck.”
The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman…
The duck’s owner, still in shock, took the bill. “£1,500!” she cried,“£1,500 just to tell me my duck is dead!”
The vet shrugged, “I’m sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been £20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now £1,500.”
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Whoa there hoss, that’s a bit too much like actually amusing for this thread. Don’t do it again.
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Sorry*
*no I’m not
Have you forgotten to wash out your bong?
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