Friday humour - June 04, 1999

     From Tony at Bluehaze:

This week I jumped into the jokes file quite randomly and ended up at the
4th of December last year.  And as it turned out, there was enough good
material sent in during the week or so around that time to more than fill
this weeks Friday humour.

The first two offerings from that period came in courtesy of Andrew Urban:

An old county doctor went way out to the boondocks to deliver a baby.  It
was so far out, there wasn't even any electricity.

When the doctor arrived, no one was home except for the labouring mother
and her 5 year-old child.

The doctor instructed the child to hold a lantern high so he could see
while he helped the woman deliver the baby.

The child did so, the mother pushed, and after a little while, the doctor
lifted the newborn baby by the feet and spanked him on the bottom to get
him to take his first breath.

"Hit him again!" the 5 year old said. "He shouldn't have crawled up there
in the first place."
                          # -- # -- # -- # -- #

Three nuns passed every day through a street that led them from Church to
a Reformatory.  They noticed a parrot that stood at the entrance of a big
residential house.  Every time they passed in front of that house, the
bird would pronounce three sequential colours. "Yellow, Blue, Black!"

One of the nuns noticed that those colours perfectly matched the colours
of their underwear.  She mentioned her discovery to the other two nuns,
but both were reluctant to believe that could be possible.

The next day, they all wore black underwear and passed in front of the
house, and very precisely the parrot spoke, "Black, Black, Black!"

Hearing that, the three nuns were astonished!!.
One of the nuns then suggested:  "Girls, tomorrow we are going to trick that
bird."  Saying that, she recommended that the next day, none of them
should be wearing any underwear under their vestments.

Respecting their agreement, the next day they wore no underwear, and
proceeded to pass in front of the parrot's house.  They peeked at the
bird.  At the beginning, the parrot looked a bit puzzled, he swung back
and forth on the cane he was perched on.  Then, after a while, the Parrot
spoke: "Straight, Straight, Curly!"

     Okay - over the Westerly list for a super short one:

     This guy goes to the Doctor.

Guy: Doc, I have this problem, I can't stop singing either The Green
     Green Grass of Home _or_ Delilah.

Doc: Sounds to me like you have a severe case of the Tom Jones.

Guy: Is it rare?

Doc: It's not unusual.

      Now to a short collection of one-liners from John Stevens' brother,
      Rex (who's still hard at work up in Indonesia):

Why are blond jokes so short?

So men can remember them.

How many men does it take to change a roll of toilet paper?

We don't know; it has never happened.

Why is it difficult to find men who are sensitive, caring and good

They already have boyfriends.

Why are married women heavier than single women?

Single women come home, see what's in the fridge and go to bed.
Married women come home, see what's in bed and go to the fridge.

Man says to God: "God, why did you make woman so beautiful?

God says: "So you would love her."

"But God," the man says, "Why did you make her so dumb?

God says, "So she would love you."

       That first one from the Westerly list was quite short, so let's
       have something just a little longer:

                         THINGS TO DO IF YOU'RE BORED

Work dull?  None of your colleagues appreciate your humour?  Then use
these suggestions to amuse yourself.

Points are awarded on a degree of difficulty basis.  You can of course
award yourself extra points for creative execution.


Groan out _really_ loud in the toilet cubicle (at least one other 'No
Player' must be in the toilet at the time).

Ignore the first five people who say 'Good morning' to you.

Phone someone in the office you barely know, leave your name and say
"Just called to say I can't talk right now.  Bye".

When someone hands you a piece of paper, finger it, and whisper huskily,
"Mmmmmmm, that feels soooooo good!"

Leave your zipper open for one hour.  If anyone points it out, say,
"Sorry, I really prefer it this way".

Walk sideways to the photocopier.

While riding in a lift, gasp dramatically every time the doors open.


Say to your boss, "I like your style" and shoot him with double-barrelled

Babble incoherently at a fellow employee then ask "Did you get all that,
I don't want to have to repeat myself now."

Shout random numbers while someone is counting.


At the end of a meeting, suggest that, for once, it would be nice to
conclude with the singing of the national anthem (extra points if you
actually launch into it yourself).

For an hour, refer to everyone you speak to as 'Bob'.

After every sentence, say 'mon' in a really bad Jamaican accent.  As in,
"... the report's on your desk, mon!".  Keep this up for one hour.

While an office mate is out, move their chair into the lift.

In a male colleagues diary, write in: "10am: See how I look in tights".

Repeat the following conversation 10 times to the same person: "Do you
hear that?"   "What?"   "Never mind - it's gone now".

Come to work in army fatigues and when asked why, say, "I can't talk
about it".

Posing as a maitre d', call a colleague and tell him he's won a lunch
for four at a local restaurant.  Let him go.

Speak with a heavy accent (French, German, Porky Pig, etc) during a very
important conference call.

     Now it's time for another one forwarded on by David over at Telstra:


A woman who was 'phoned repeatedly by a public lavatory asking her to fill
it with cleaning fluid had to ask British Telecom to put a stop to the calls.

The case is one of a growing number of nuisance calls generated by
programming errors.

About 15% of all nuisance calls are caused by errors, most of which are
traceable to faulty programming, according to a BT spokesperson.

The most common type of computer-controlled nuisance call is from soft
drink vending machines which need refilling.  Wrongly programmed fax
machines and modems are another cause of complaints.

In a recent case, a North Sea oil rig called the wrong number at regular
intervals to ask for a service.  Potentially serious cases involve traffic
lights, boilers and hospital refrigerators.

"The calls are mainly silent, because they are intended for modems to pick
up, but some also give a recorded message," said a BT spokesman.

     Some of you may remember that we had a little collection called
     "William Safire's Rules For Writers" a few weeks back.  Well,
     Carolynn Larsen over at the Ian Wark Library forwarded this on to
     Jean in December, and it's some more of the same:

Parenthetical remarks (however relevant) are (usually) unnecessary.

Be more or less specific.

Also, always avoid annoying alliteration.

Contractions aren't necessary and shouldn't be used.

Foreign words and phrases are not apropos.

Also too, never, ever use repetitive redundancies.

Do not be redundant; do not use more words than necessary; it's highly

One should NEVER generalise.

Comparisons are as bad as cliches.

Don't use no double negatives.

Eschew ampersands & abbreviations, etc.

Analogies in writing are like feathers on a snake.

Eliminate commas, that are, not necessary.  Parenthetical words however
should be enclosed in commas.

Never use a big word when a diminutive one would suffice.

Use words correctly, irregardless of how others use them.

Understatement is always the absolute best way to put forth earth shaking

Use the apostrophe in it's proper place and omit it when its not needed.

Eliminate quotations.  As Ralph Waldo Emerson said, "I hate quotations.
Tell me what you know."

If you've heard it once, you've heard it a thousand times: Resist
hyperbole; not one writer in a million can use it correctly.

Go around the barn at high noon to avoid colloquialisms.

Who needs rhetorical questions?

      And (said he starting with a conjunction), here's one from John S
      over at the Museum of Vic:

A woman had tickets to game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals right at center
ice.  As she sits down, a man comes down & asks if anyone is sitting in
the seat next to her.

"No," she says, "the seat is empty."

"This is incredible", said the man. "Who in their right mind would have a
seat like this for the Stanley Cup and not use it?"

She says "Well, actually, the seat belongs to me.  I was supposed to come
with my husband, but he passed away.  This is the first Stanley Cup we
haven't been to together since we got married in 1967."

"Oh dear ... I'm so sorry to hear that.  That's terrible.  But couldn't you
find someone else - a friend or relative, or even a neighbour - to take
the seat?"

The woman shakes her head "No.  They're all at the funeral."

     This next offering, from Brian McNicol over in the British Isles, is a
     trifle naughty.  It's resplendent with four-letter words and sexual
     imagery, and would be rated R at least.  So skip over it if you're not
     in the mood (or if you're under 15 or over 50).  You have been warned:

                           A PAROCHIAL BRITISH ODE.

          The country was in such a terrible state
          Parliament rose for a budget debate
          It was quite a few moments before Tony spoke
          When he said "Sex will now cost ten quid a poke"

          "Whether you're short, long, skinny or thick
          The tax will be paid on the use of your prick"
          Chris Smith said "Now Tony, look here.
          Will the tax still be paid for the boys who are queer?"

          Treasurer Brown arose and looked glum
          "Will I be exempt coz I only like bum?"
          Tony replied and sounded quite airy
          "You'll fucking pay double, you dirty old fairy"

          Up got John Major to tremendous applause
          He grabbed Margaret Beckett, and whipped off her drawers
          He straddled across her and fucked her at will
          Then he shouted at Tony "put that on your bill"

          Prescott shouted "I think I'll resign
          I haven't had pussy for very long time
          I dream every night of a big juicy crutch
          But ten quid a jump is a bit fucking much."

          The debate carried on - oh, what a night
          Cecil was bonking every woman in sight
          The whole house was screwing, the speaker was too
          And in the excitement, the dumb bill got through

          So now in the bedrooms of England each night
          There's many a fanny closed up good and tight
          They're taxing our booze and taxing our smokes
          And now the bastards are taxing our pokes

          If ten pounds a time is the price we must pay,
          It's now with ourselves we must play.
          So to quench our frustration, we must have a wank
          For the state of our country, we have Tony to thank.

       And I know our next contributor would have thoroughly enjoyed that
       last one.  This little collection passed on by Russell Newnham:

Why did the man cross the road?

He heard the chicken was a slut. (Anyone we may know?)

What do men and sperm have in common?

They both have a one-in-a-million chance of becoming a human being

How does a man show that he is planning for the future?

He buys two cases of beer.

What is the difference between men and government bonds?

The bonds mature.

What do you call a woman who knows where her husband is every night?

A widow.

When do you care for a man's company?

When he owns it.

What are a woman's four favourite animals?

A mink in the closet
A Jaguar in the garage
A Tiger in the bedroom
And an Ass to pay for it all.

How did Pinocchio find out he was made of wood?

His hand caught fire.

How do you get a man to do sit-ups?

Put a remote control between his toes.

What did God say after creating man?

I must be able to do better than that.

What did God say after creating Eve?

Practice makes perfect.

How are men and parking spots alike?

Good ones are always taken, free ones are mostly handicapped or extremely

     And to conclude for this thoroughly lewd and lascivious week, a
     shortish one which was forwarded on by Fifi McCallum:

A group of third, fourth, and fifth graders, accompanied by two female
teachers, went on a field trip to the local racetrack to learn about
thoroughbred horses and the supporting industry.

During the tour, some of the children wanted to go to the toilet, so it was
decided that the girls would go with one teacher and the boys would go
with the other.

As the teacher who'd been assigned to the boys waited outside their
toilet, one of the boys came out and told her that he couldn't reach the
urinal.  Having no choice, the teacher went inside and began hoisting the
little boys up by their armpits, one by one.  As she lifted one up by the
armpits, she couldn't help but notice that he was unusually well-endowed
for a primary school child.

"I guess you must be in the fifth," she said.

"No ma'am," he replied, "I'm in the seventh, riding Silver Arrow.  But
thanks for the lift anyway."
[End Fri humour]

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