A man who had recently died is delivered to the mortuary wearing an expensive, bespoke three-piece black suit. The mortician asks the deceased’s wife how she would like the body dressed. He points out that the man looks quite smart in the black suit he is already wearing. The widow, however, says that she always thought her husband looked his best in blue and insists on a blue suit. Handing the mortician a blank cheque, she adds, “I don’t care what it costs, please put my husband in a blue suit for the viewing.”
The woman returns the next day for the wake. To her delight, she finds her husband dressed in an expertly tailored Savile Row blue suit. It fts him perfectly. She says to the mortician, “You did an excellent job and I’m very grateful. I don’t care how much this cost.”
To her astonishiment, the mortician presents her with the blank cheque.
“There’s no charge,” he says.
“No, honestly, I must reimburse you for the cost of that blue suit,” she says.
“Honestly, madam,” the mortician says, “it cost nothing. You see, a deceased gentleman of about your husband’s size was brought in shortly after you left yesterday and he was wearing an attractive blue suit. I asked his wife if she minded him going to his grave wearing a black suit instead, and she said it made no difference as long as he looked good. After that, it was just a matter of swapping heads . . .”
A mortician was working late one night. He examined the body of Mr Dobing, who was about to be cremated, and made a startling discovery. Dobing had the biggest penis he had ever seen!
“I’m sorry Mr Dobing,” the mortician commented, “I can’t allow you to be cremated with such an impressive schlong. It must be saved for posterity.” So, he removed it, stuffed it into his briefcase, and took it home.
“I have to show you something you won’t believe,” he said to his wife, opening his briefcase.
“Jesus Christ!” shrieked the wife: “Dobing’s dead?”
MUSIC
What has nine arms and sucks?
Def Leppard.
What has two heads and six legs?
Nirvana.
What’s brown and rhymes with Snoop?
Dr Dre.
Why did it take Stevie Wonder four years to write “Song In The Key Of Life”?
He dropped his pencil on the first day.
What happens when you sing country and western music backwards?
You get your wife and your job back.
What’s brown and sits on a piano bench?
Beethoven’s First Movement.
Did you know that Neil Diamond and Sid Vicious once collaborated on a song together?
It was called: “You don’t bring me fowers any more, you cunt.”
What’s got three breasts and can’t sing?
Kylie and Danni Minogue.
What is thirty feet long, has ten teeth and stinks of urine?
The front row of a Daniel O’Donnell concert.
What’s the first sign of madness?
Suggs walking up your driveway.
I was in Oxford Street and I bumped into Paul Weller. I said to him “Oi, Weller! I’ve got all your records!” I’d love to see the look on his face when the cunt gets home and realizes he’s been burgled.
How do you know when the stage is dead level?
The drummer is drooling out of both sides of his mouth.
What is the definition of “perfect pitch”?
When you lob Liam Gallagher into a toilet without hitting the rim.
How is an orgasm like a drum solo?
You can tell it’s coming but there’s no way to stop it.
Queen guitarist Brian May has finally had his doctoral thesis in astrophysics published. He can now prove categorically that fat-bottomed girls make the rocking world go round.
Bono is at a U2 concert when he asks the audience for some quiet. Then, in the silence, he starts to click his fingers. Holding the audience in total silence, he says into the microphone . . . “Every time I click my fingers, a child in Africa dies.”
A voice from near the front pierces the silence: “Stop doing it then, cunt!”
The IRA captured Ian Paisley, Margaret Thatcher and Daniel O’Donnell, but they only had two bullets. Who did they shoot?
Daniel O’Donnell twice, just to make sure.
MUSLIMS
’ Two Muslim families moved to America. When they arrived, the two men at the head of each household made a bet: in a year’s time, whichever family had become more American would win. A year later they met again.
The first man said, “My son is playing baseball, I had McDonald’s for breakfast and I’m on my way to pick up a case of Bud, how about you?”
The second man replied, “Fuck off, towel head.”
You Are Almost Certainly a Member of the Taliban If . . .
1 You refine heroin for a living but you have a moral objection to beer.
2 You own a £2,000 machine gun and a £5,000 rocket launcher but you can’t afford shoes.
3 You have more wives than teeth.
4 You wipe your arse with your bare left hand but consider bacon “unclean”.
5 You think vests come in two styles: bulletproof and suicide.
6 You think that television is dangerous but carry explosives in your clothing.
7 You didn’t know that mobile phones have uses other than setting off roadside bombs.
8 You have often said, “I love what you’ve done with your cave.”
9 You have nothing against women; in fact you think every man should own at least one.
10 You’ve ever had a crush on your neighbour’s goat.
Why are the Taliban not circumcised?
It gives them a place to put their bubblegum during a sandstorm.
Why is the British summer just like a Muslim?
Because it’s either Sunni or Shi’ite.
What does the average Pakistani weigh?
Sweets.
NATIVE AMERICANS
The Indian chief Geronimo decides it is time to give his three sons their adult names because they have reached manhood. He gathers them in to his tent together with the elders of the tribe and turns to his eldest son.
“Son, you will be called Eagle.”
The third and youngest son interrupts, “Dad, dad, what will I be called?”
“All in good time, my son,” replies Geronimo.
He continues; “You will be called Eagle because you are strong and wise.”
The elders agree. Geronimo then turns to his second son. Meanwhile the third son interrupts again: “Dad, dad, what will I be called?”
“All in good time, my son,” he replies.
Geronimo continues to tell his second eldest, “Son, you will be called Swallow.”
The third son says again, “Father, father, what will I be called?”
“All in good time, my son,” comes the reply. He continues, “You will be named Swallow because you are quick and cunning.”
The elders agree. He then turns to the third son, who is still impatiently asking, “Dad, dad, what will I be called?”
“Son, you will be called Thrush.”
“Why is that, dad?” he asks excitedly.
“Because, my son, you are an irritating cunt.”
Tonto and the Lone Ranger are walking through the prairie. The Lone Ranger asks Tonto how much he knows about the prairie and the nature surrounding them. Tonto suddenly drops the foor, puts his ear to the ground and says, “Buffalo come.”
The Lone Ranger is amazed. He says, “Are you so knowledgeable in this world that you can hear the animals miles away and understand their acoustics via their vibrations through the ground?”
Tonto shakes his head and says, “No. Ear stuck to foor!”
Did you hear about the dyslexic native American?
They buried his knee at Wounded Heart.
One day an Indian chief walked into a pharmacy and asked to speak to the pharmacist. The pharmacist walks out and asks the chief
, “How may I help you?”
The chief replies, “Me got heap too many children, need condoms.”
The pharmacist helips the chief to select from his extensive range of condoms and sends him on his way. The next day, the chief walks back into the pharmacy with a shredded, badly mangled condom. Puzzled, the pharmacist asks him what happened.
Tossing the damaged condom on to the counter in disgust, the chief replies angrily, “Last night, me put on condom to fuck squaw. Left nut go ‘Ug!’, right nut go ‘Ug!’, condom go BOOM!” Surprised at this news, the pharmacist gives the chief a packet of special prescription, super-strength condoms. Hoping this will do the trick, the pharmacist sends the chief on his way.
The next day, the chief reappears, mad as hell with yet another shredded condom in his hand. The pharmacist asks the chief what happened.
The chief replies angrily, “Last night, me put on condom to fuck squaw. Left nut go ‘Ug!’, right nut go ‘Ug!’, condom go BOOM!” The pharmacist, by now at his wits end, asks the chief to wait, then nips out of the back of the shop and goes to a bicycle shop to buy a cycle tyre repair kit. He then takes a length of the tube, seals off one end with the repair kit and hands it to the chief. This, he tells the chief triumphantly, will definitely do the trick.
The next morning, the Indian chief limps through the door very slowly, and in obvious pain. Surprised, the pharmacist runs out and asks the chief what happened.
The chief looks him in the eye and with a very hoarse voice replies, “Last night, me put on condom to fuck squaw. Left nut go ‘Ug!’, condom go ‘Ug!’, right nut go BOOM!”
A Scouser called Steve is on a trip around North America. One day he stops off at a remote bar in the Nevada desert and gets talking to the bartender, when he sees a native American wearing full tribal gear sitting on a bar stool. Says Steve to the barman, “Who is the cool looking dude in the Red Indian gear?”
“That is the memory man,” replies the bartender. “He knows everything there is to know. Has a memory like an elephant.”
“Really?” says Steve.
“Sure,” says the barman. “Why don’t you go and check him out if you don’t believe me?”
So Steve heads over to the native American, thinking that he can make him look foolish by asking him a question about English football. He asks the memory man, “Who won the 1965 FA Cup Final?”
“Liverpool,” comes the swift reply.
Steve can’t believe his ears. He tries again. “Who did they beat?”
“Leeds,” replies the memory man.
Steve tries once more. “What was the final score?”
The wise native American replies without hesitating, “Two-one.”
Steve the Scouser is impressed, but is quietly confdent he will catch the memory man out with his final question. “Who scored the winning goal?”
Without blinking, the memory man says, “Ian St John.”
Steve is stunned. When he gets home to Liverpool he tells everyone about the Red Indian. Several years go by and he can never quite get his strange encounter in the Nevada bar out of his head and he vows to return to American and pay his respects to the Indian. Ten years later, Steve finally saves up enough money to return, and, after weeks of searching the Nevada desert, he is delighted to find the native American living in a cave. Steve steps forward, bows, and greets the brave in the traditional manner.
“How,” says Steve.
The memory man squints at him and replies: “Diving header in the six-yard box.”
NECROPHOBIA
Necrophilia. It means never having to say you’re sorry.
What’s the definition of disappointment?
A necrophiliac finding someone buried alive.
Necrophilia. Nature’s way of telling you that your love life has gone stale.
I used to be really into sadism, necrophilia and bestiality, until I realized I was just fogging a dead horse.
Two necrophiliacs are at work in the morgue. One of them turns to the other and says, “You know that woman they brought in last week? They pulled her out of the water after she’d been there for three weeks. I’m telling you, her clit was just like a pickle.”
“What,” the other asks, “green?”
“No,” says the first, “a bit sour.”
Necrophilia: the uncontrollable urge to crack open a cold one.
Did you hear about the hypochondriac necrophiliac?
He was so scared of catching something he only has sex with cadavers without removing them from the body bag.
What’s the difference between necrophilia and rape? The body temperature.
Three necrophiliacs get together in a pub to chew the fat over some of the finer points of their perversion. They start talking about the best postmortem time for penetrating the corpse. The first necrophiliac says that he likes to shag the warm dead body moments after death. The other two beg to differ; after all, if the body is still warm, there is not much point even calling it necrophilia, is there?
The second necrophiliac says he likes to wait around for three days after death before copping off with the deceased: “Rigor mortis has set in, and it’s always good to get stiff with a proper stiff.”
The third necrophiliac smiles and says he prefers to wait around three monthis. The other two are amazed and ask him why.
He replies, “That way, I can penetrate the body anywhere I want.”
I used to be a necrophiliac - until some rotten cunt split on me.
NOSE PICKING
Nose-Picking Terms
Deep Salvage Pick: similar to the type of deep-sea exploration required to find the wreck of the Titanic, i.e. you probe deep into your nasal passages.
Utensil Pick: when fingers and even a thumb aren’t enough to get the job done to your satisfaction.
Extra Pick: after digging for nuggets for hours on end, you suddenly hit the jackpot! Excitement only equalled by winning the lottery.
Depression Pick: when the only way to fill the void is to pick so hard and fast that the agony overcomes your feeling of remorse and depression.
Pick a Lot: abnormal amounts of picking, i.e. anything in the three digit realm is generally considered excessive within a twenty-four-hour time frame.
Kiddie Pick: alone and uninhibited you twist your forefinger into your nostril with childlike joy and freedom. The best part is there’s no time limit.
Camouflaged Kiddie Pick: like the Kiddie Pick but you have company, so you wrap your forefinger in a tissue, then thrust it in deep and hold back the smile.
Fake Nose Scratch: pretend you have an itch but you’re really feeling around the nostril edge for stray bogeys.
Making a Meal Out of It: done furiously and for so long, you’re probably entitled to dessert.
Surprise Pickings: a sneeze or laugh causes snot to fly out of your nose and you have to gracefully wipe it off your clothing.
Auto Pick: done in a car when you think no one’s looking. Can also mean automatic pick, the one you do when you’re not even thinking about it, at work, while talking to a co-worker during a meeting.
Pick Your Brains: done in private, this is the one where your finger goes in so far that it passes the septum.
Pick and Save: done very quickly, just when someone looks away. Hopefully you can bide your time and pocket the snot so they don’t catch on to what you just did.
Pick and Flick: a weapon against others in range around you.
Pick and Stick: intended as a “Pick and Flick”, but it stubbornly clings to your fingertip.
Pipe Cleaner: you remove a chunk of snot so big it improves your breathing by 90 per cent.
NUNS
Two nuns were taking a stroll through the park at dusk when two men jumped them, ripped off their habits, and proceeded to rape them. Sister Gregory, bruised and battered, looked up at the sky and said softly, “Forgive him, Lord, for he knows not what he is doing.”
Sister Theresa looked over at her and said, “Actually, mine
does.”
How do you get a nun pregnant?
Dress her up as an altar boy.
Two nuns go on a shopping trip to Calais, loading up with duty free. On the way back, just as they are going to drive through “Nothing to declare”, a customs officer waves them in to the side. The first nun says to the second nun, who is driving, “Don’t panic, just show them your cross.”
“Okay,” says the seconds nun. So she winds the window down, leans out and shouts, “Fuck off!”
A nun went to see her mother superior. “What troubles you, sister?” asked the mother superior. “I thought this was the day you liked to spend with your family.”
“It was,” sighed the sister. “I went to play a round of golf with my brother. As you may recall, I was a very keen golfer before I gave my life to Christ.”
“I do recall that,” agreed mother superior. “So how did your day of relaxation go?”
“Not very well,” said the sister. “In fact, I’m afraid I took the Lord’s name in vain today!”
“Goodness,” gasped the mother superior. “You must tell me all about it, sister!”
“Well,” continued the sister, “my brother and I were on the seventh tee, a 500-yard par five with a tricky dogleg right with bunkers all down the left and a green hidden behind tall trees. Anyway, I hit the drive of my life. It was a beauty. But then a herd of goose few over and the ball hit a bird in mid-fight, about 100 yards from the tee!”
The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes Page 32