JOKES

[degzc]

Driving on the motorway the other day, I looked over to my right and there was a woman in a brand new BMW doing 80mph with her face up next to the rear vision mirror putting on her eyeliner! I looked away for a couple of seconds and when I looked back she was halfway over in my lane, still working on that makeup! It scared me so badly, I dropped my electric razor, which knocked the piece of toast out of my other hand. In all the confusion of trying to straighten out the car using my knees against the steering wheel, it knocked my mobile phone away from my ear which fell into the hot coffee between my legs, splashed Big Jim and the Twins, ruined the damn phone and DISCONNECTED AN IMPORTANT CALL! Bloody Women Drivers!

[martinhodgson]

French Revolution
- Won, primarily due the fact that the opponent was also French.

Heh heh

[UKTRAINSIM]

There was a bloke who gambled on horse races. One day he went up to the jokey that was racing the horse he put money on. This jokey was a novice rider and didn't know the horse that well.

Bloke: Right, when you get to the fence you've got to shout to the horse 1,2,3, JUMP

Jokey: You what mate?

Bloke: I said, when you get to the fence, shout 1,2,3, JUMP

Jokey: Listen mate I've been riding horses for years and I...

Bloke: Just do as I say

But the jokey didn't take notice.
As the race started the horse went streight through the first two fences. The jokey then realised that he had to say 1,2,3, JUMP. So at the third fence

Jokey: 1,2,3, JUMP!

Over like a pegasus. Second fence

Jokey: 1,2,3, JUMP

Over like a pegasus. But because of the first two fences he came second, the bloke walked up to him in anger.

Bloke: You bloody fool I told you to say 1,2,3, JUMP!

Jokey: I did! The horse must be deaf.

Bloke: He's not deaf you bloody fool HE'S BLIND!

[degzc]

Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time. which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him....what? (oh, man, this is so bad it's good) A super callused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

[terrycunliffe]

Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time. which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him....what? (oh, man, this is so bad it's good) A super callused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

Groan!!
This has got to be the worst joke.... ever!
T

[terrycunliffe]

Head in the News that Dentists in Yorkshire are now injecting ecstasy into the areas above patients teeth before treatment as a (cheaper)
alternative to the usual local anaesthetics..
This new procedure is called...

"E By Gum "



Terry

[Garthion]

Head in the News that Dentists in Yorkshire are now injecting ecstasy into the areas above patients teeth before treatment as a (cheaper)
alternative to the usual local anaesthetics..
This new procedure is called...

"E By Gum "



Terry

SO bad it hurts!!!


Here's a classicle themed joke, in time for the olyimpics I will use the Greek gods/names

Zeus: Heraclese, what is it that thou hath been tasked with?

Heraclese: I have Twelve tasks to comlete, my Father.

Zeus: And what makes you seek my Guidance in this Matter?

Heraclese: I do not know haow to do the First, king of the gods

Zeus: And what is that, Son?

Heraclese: I must tie my shoe lace, before I run twenty six miles to Athens, there to compete in the Olympics and win some Gold medals for the home side, but, I have never worn these "trainers" before, they were not around when I last visited the Mortals.

Zeus: Hath our conversation lasted THAT long then?



Heraclese is the Greek (true) spelling of Hercules which is a Roman mutation of the spelling due to part of the name missing on a stone slab when the Romans found it. All they could read was: Her...clese so the name mutated. I just thought you'd all like to know a bit of ancient history!

[saddletank]

- War of the Spanish Succession

- American Revolution

In between these two goes:

- Seven Years war
- Lost, beaten by English and Germans in Germany, and while distracted English grab most of their Indian and Caribbean colonies as well. Except for a sweaty insignificant place called Vietnam which the English realise may come in handy to teach the French another lesson later on.

[alan2]

awwwwwwwwwww, pooor french.

[degzc]

Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time. which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him....what? (oh, man, this is so bad it's good) A super callused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.

Groan!!
This has got to be the worst joke.... ever!
T

I have never claimed them to be funny, I just send them in
Maybe this one will get a laugh:
Actual Radio Conversation

This is the transcript of the ACTUAL radio conversation of a US naval ship with Canadian authorities off the coast of Newfoundland in October 1995.
Radio conversation released by the Chief of Naval Operations 10-10-95.

Canadians: Please divert your course 15 degrees South to avoid a collision.

Americans: Recommend you divert your course 15 degrees to the North to avoid a collision.

Canadians: Negative. You will have to divert your course 15 degrees to the South to avoid a collision.

Americans: This is the Captain of a US Navy ship. I say again, divert YOUR course.

Canadians: No. I say again, you divert your course.

Americans: THIS IS THE AIRCRAFT CARRIER USS LINCOLN. THE SECOND LARGEST SHIP IN THE UNITED STATES ATLANTIC FLEET. WE ARE ACCOMPANIED BY THREE DESTROYERS, THREE CRUISERS AND NUMEROUS SUPPORT VESSELS. I DEMAND THAT YOU CHANGE YOUR COURSE 15 DEGREES NORTH, I SAY AGAIN, THAT'S ONE FIVE DEGREES NORTH, OR COUNTER- MEASURES WILL BE UNDERTAKEN TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS SHIP.

Canadians: This is a lighthouse. Your call.

[UKTRAINSIM]

Thats more like it!

This 35 year old bloke was still a virgin, and one of his mates found a girl suitable for his taste. She lifted her skirt to reveal her crochless knikers.

Girl: Here boy do ya want some of that.

Bloke: No I don't, look what its done to your knikers!

[terrycunliffe]

Below is allegedly a genuine letter from some poor disgruntled customer to NTL about their services. (Subject to some Moderation )

Dear Cretins,

I have been an NTL customer since 9th July 2001, when I signed up for your 3-in-one deal for cable TV, cable modem, and telephone.

During this three month period I have encountered inadequacy of service which I had not previously considered possible, as well as ignorance and stupidity of monolithic proportions. Please allow me to provide specific details, so that you can either pursue your professional prerogative, and seek to rectify these difficulties - or more likely (I suspect) so that you can have some entertaining reading material as you while away the working day smoking B&H and drinking vendor-coffee on the bog.

My initial installation was cancelled without warning or notice, resulting in my spending an entire Saturday sitting on my fat bum waiting for your technician to arrive. When he did not arrive at all, I spent a further 57 minutes listening to your infuriating hold music, and the even more annoying Scottish robot woman telling me to look at your helpful website.... how? I alleviated the boredom to some small degree by playing with my testicles for a few minutes - an activity at which you are no-doubt both familiar and highly adept.

The rescheduled installation then took place some two weeks later, although the technician did forget to bring a number of vital tools – such as a drill-bit, and his cerebrum.

Two weeks later, my cable modem had still not arrived. After several further telephone calls (actually 15 telephone calls over 4 weeks) my modem arrived ... a total of six weeks after I had requested it, and begun to pay for it. I estimate that the downtime of your internet servers is roughly 35%... these are usually the hours between about 6pm and midnight, Monday to Friday, and most of the useful periods over the weekend.

I am still waiting for my telephone connection. I have made 9 telephone calls on my mobile to your no-help line this week, and have been unhelpfully transferred to a variety of disinterested individuals, who are it seems also highly skilled bo***ck jugglers.

I have been informed that a telephone line is available (and someone will call me back), that no telephone line is available (and someone will call me back), that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been cut off), that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been redirected to an answer machine informing me that your office is closed), that I will be transferred to someone who knows whether or not a telephone line is available (and then been redirected to the irritating Scottish robot woman.... and several other variations on this theme. Doubtless you are no-longer reading this letter, as you have at least a thousand other dissatisfied customers to ignore, and also another one of those crucially important testicle-moments to attend to.

Frankly I don't care, it's far more satisfying as a customer to voice my frustrations in print than to shout them at your unending hold music.

Forgive me, therefore, if I continue. I thought BT were s**t, that they had attained the ulimate piss-pot of truly awful customer relations, that no-one, anywhere, ever, could be more disinterested, less helpful or more obstructive to delivering service to their customers. That's why I chose NTL, and because, well, there isn't anyone else is there?

How surprised I therefore was, when I discovered to my considerable dissatisfaction and disappointment what a useless shower of b******s you truly are. You are sputum-filled pieces of distended rectum - incompetents of the highest order. British Telecom - tossers though they are – shine like brilliant beacons of success, in the filthy puss-filled mire of your seemingly limitless inadequacy. Suffice to say that I have now given up on my futile and foolhardy quest to receive any kind of service from you. I suggest that you too likewise, and cease any potential future attempts to extort payment from me for the services which you have so pointedly and catastrophically failed to deliver - any such activity will be greeted initially with hilarity and disbelief - although these feelings will quickly be replaced by derision, and even perhaps a small measure of bemused rage.

I enclose two small deposits, selected with great care from my cats litter tray, as an expression of my utter and complete contempt for both you, and your pointless company. I sincerely hope that they have not become dessicated during transit - they were satisfyingly moist at the time of posting, and I would feel considerable disappointment if you did not experience both their rich aroma and delicate texture. Consider them the very embodiment of my feelings towards NTL, and it's worthless employees.

Have a nice day - may it be the last in you miserable short life, you irritatingly incompetent and infuriatingly unhelpful bunch of tossers,

Yours psychotically,
Xxxx Xxxxxxx

[terrycunliffe]

Only in America?!?!

<IMG width="800" height="536" SRC="http://www.atomic-album.com/showPic.php ... itness.jpg">

T

[degzc]

Into a Belfast pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he'd just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp.

"What happened to you?" asks Sean the bartender.

"Jamie O'Conner and me had a fight," says Paddy.

"That little . O'Conner," says Sean, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had some thing in his hand."

"That he did," says Paddy, "a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin' he gave me with it."

"Well," says Sean, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?"

"That I did," said Paddy. "Mrs. O'Connor's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight."

[terrycunliffe]

As It's Summer, And us Brits relax with a beer to the sound of leather on Willow, I thought it prudent to avail our cousins across the Big Pond about the quintessential rudiments of the Gentlemanly sport of Cricket....

THE RULES OF
CRICKET
two old men in white coats walk together to the
middle of a large, green field, each carrying three
long sticks and two little ones.
each plants his three sticks in the ground, 22 yards
apart, and puts the little sticks on top.
they then turn around and look towards 22
younger men at the edge of the field --- and then it
starts to rain.

T