The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes

by E. Henry Thripshaw

  “Fine,” says St Peter, “as you wish.” So Bill Gates goes to Hell.

  Two weeks later, St Peter decides to check to see how he is doing in Hell. When he gets there, he finds Bill, shackled to a wall in a dark cave, screaming, with hot flames licking around his fleet, while demons are torturing him with branding irons.

  “Hi, Bill, how’s it going?” he enquires of the late billionaire.

  “This is my worst nightmare!” Bill cries. “This is nothing like the Hell I visited two weeks ago! I can’t believe this is happening! What happened to that other place, with the beautiful beaches, the scantily-clad women playing in the water?”

  “That was a demo,” replies St Peter.

  TESTICLES

  If you have a green ball in your left hand, and you have a green ball in your right hand, what do you have?

  The complete and undivided attention of the Incredible Hulk.

  Why do women rub their eyes when they wake up?

  They don’t have any balls to scratch.

  Why did the eunuch fail to cross the road?

  He didn’t have the balls.

  Did you hear about the bloke with square testicles?

  He had cubic hairs.

  What do you call a man with three balls?

  A juggler.

  I read somewhere that women have one breast bigger than the other.

  Or is that just bollocks?

  The great pharaoh Ramses II was dictating to a scribe. As the great pharaoh spoke, the scribe was busily chipping away at the stone tablet. “I am going to create . . .” the monarch said slowly, “a personal bodyguard . . . of stalwart . . . and virile . . . young men.”

  The chips suddenly ceased flying. “Excuse me, your majesty,” said the perspiring chiseller, hesitantly, “. . . but is virile spelled with one testicle or two?”

  A man applies to the local council for a job. The interviewer asks him; “Have you been in the armed services?”

  “Yes,” he says, “I was in the Falklands.”

  The interviewer says: “Good. That will give you extra points toward employment. Are you disabled in any way?”

  The man says, “Yes, 100 per cent. A land mine blew my testicles off.”

  The interviewer replies: “Excellent. You’re hired. The hours are from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. You can start tomorrow. Come in at 10 a.m.”

  The guy is puzzled and asks, “If the hours are from 8 a.m. to 4 a.m., why do you want me to come in at 10 a.m.?”

  “This is the council,” the interviewer explains. “For the first two hours we sit around scratching our balls. No point in you coming in for that.”

  TOILETS

  I saw a sign in a public toilet. It said, “Please leave these premises in the condition that you would like to have found it in”. So I left a porno mag and a line of coke.

  Some graffiti spotted in the ladies’ public toilet, obviously written by a male intruder, read: “I’m 12 inches long and three inches wide. Are you interested?”

  Written underneath, in more feminine handwriting: “Interested? I’m amazed. But what is the size of your dick?”

  Why do French men always miss the urinal?

  You try pissing with both your hands in the air!

  According to a recent survey, reading, chatting and texting are among the favourite activities of Britons on the toilet. The study suggests more than fourteen million people in the UK read newspapers, books and magazines. Eight million people talk – either on the phone or to family – and one in five send texts. Personally I’d rather have a shit.

  Disabled toilets. Ironically, the only toilets so big you can run around in them.

  What is the quickest way to clear out a men’s changing room?

  Say, “Nice dick!”

  A man goes into a public lavatory for a pee and sees a man standing beside him at the urinal. He realizes the man doesn’t have any arms.

  “Could you help me with my zipper, please?” the disabled man politely asks.

  Feeling uncomfortable, the man obliges. The disabled man stands there for a few seconds, and then asks. “Erm, could you do me a favour and pull my trousers down for me?”

  Once again, the man feels obliged to assist and tugs at the man’s trousers. The disabled guy says, “I hate to ask, but could you please take my penis out for me?”

  The man freezes, but, feeling very sorry for the guy, he reaches in and helps free the man’s willy from his Y-fronts, and then steps back in shock. The man’s penis is covered with green scabs and pus.

  When the disabled man finishes peeing, he says: “Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it.”

  The good samaritan starts washing his hands and says, “No problem. If you don’t mind me asking – what’s wrong with your dick?”

  “Fuck knows,” he replies, pulling his arms free of his jacket. “But I’m not touching it.”

  Urinal Etiquette

  Excitable: runs in, grabs for zipper, zipper is stuck; finally gets it down, finds shorts have twisted around his leg, can’t find hole, rips button off in rage, pisses in pants.

  Sociable: joins a friend in a piss, whether he needs one or not.

  Boss-eyed: looks at a urinal to his left, pisses in one on his right.

  Nosey: peers at the next guy to see how he is fixed.

  Timid: unable to piss when someone is watching. Flushes urinal as if he has already used it, sneaks back later.

  Indifferent: if all the urinals are in use, pisses in sink.

  Show-off: no hands, fixes tie, looks around and pisses on floor.

  Worried: unsure of what he has been into lately, makes quick inspection before pissing.

  Drunk: holds left thumb in right hand, pisses in pants.

  Two pubic hairs on a toilet seat. One says to the other, “How long you here for?”

  “I don’t know,” the other replies. “I suppose until I get pissed off.”

  Absent-minded: opens vest, pulls out tie, pisses in pants.

  Disgusted: attempts to piss for a while, gives up, walks out, goes a few paces, turns around and charges back. Doesn’t make it.

  Sneaky: farts silently while pissing, knowing the man standing at the next urinal will be blamed.

  Immature: pisses directly into bottom of urinal because likes to see it bubble.

  Patient: stands for a very long time while reading broadsheet newspaper with free hand.

  Desperate: having waited for ages in a queue, grinds his teeth while pissing in his pants.

  Efficient: waits until he has to shit and then does both jobs at once.

  Tough: bangs penis against side of urinal to dry it.

  Obese: has to back up and take a long blind shot at urinal, misses, pisses on shoes.

  Frivolous: plays his stream of piss up and down and across urinal, tries to hit fly.

  What’s white, jelly-like and runs down a public toilet wall?

  George Michael’s latest release.

  I went into some public toilets the other day to have a shit. When I sat down and locked the door, a voice came from the cubicle next to me. “Hello mate, how are you doing?”

  I thought this was a bit odd, but I didn’t want to be rude so I replied, “Not too bad, thanks.”

  After a short pause, I heard the voice again: “Anyway, what are you up to?”

  I replied, somewhat hesitantly, “Er . . . just having a quick shit actually. How about yourself?”

  Then I heard the voice say, “Sorry, mate, I’ll have to phone you back. There’s some twat in the cubicle next to me answering everything I say.”

  TOURETTE'S SYNDROME

  An unemployed pianist with Tourette’s is walking the streets looking for work when he spies a bar with a sign in the window: “Pianist wanted for evening performances”.

  “Fucking ace!” he yells, and enters the bar.

  “Get the cunting manager of this wank hole please, you twat,” he shouts at a rather startled barman. The barman, however, obliges and his manager com
es upstairs. “Can I help you sir?” he enquires.

  “Yes, fuckface, you can, you fat piece of shit. I saw your advert in the window and I’m here to audition, tosser!”

  The manager is naturally repelled by the man’s deeply offensive behaviour. Improbably, however, his dire need for a decent pianist forces him to agree to an audition. The first tune the pianist plays is a delightful jazz number, and when he is finished the thrilled barman cries, “Bravo! Bravo! What was that piece called?”

  “That song, you fat cunt, was called ‘Excuse me, prime minister, but I just came in your daughter’s eye and now the slut is blind’.”

  “I see,” says the manager. “Can you play me another?”

  “Tosser,” replies the pianist, before launching into a powerful ballad, which leaves the manager in tears. The manager asks him the title.

  “That little number was called ‘Sometimes when you take a bird up the shit box you get crap on your bell end’.”

  “I understand,” says the manager. “Have you any songs with slightly less offensive titles?”

  “Well,” says the pianist, “there’s my jazz number ‘Do you want me to split your ring piece’, or there’s ‘I don’t care if you’re an older woman, you’ve still got the most amazing pair of tits’.”

  “I see,” says the manager. “I think you’re a superb pianist but your songs are frankly a little ‘racy’. I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.”

  “Fuck it,” says the pianist. “It’s a deal, you cunt.”

  On his very first night everything is going superbly. The crowd loves his repertoire and his silence is received as modesty. The only thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a beautiful blonde lady in a fetching black evening dress with a long split up the side revealing the tops of her stockings and a plunging neckline, which boasts a deep, inviting cleavage. During the interval the pianist has got such a stonking hard-on that he decides to retire to the men’s room and knock one out.

  Just as he has shot his load he hears himself being re-introduced over the tannoy, so he dashes back to the stage and finishes his act. After the show he is at the bar relaxing, when the beautiful blonde approaches him.

  “Hi,” she says.

  “Hello,” he somehow manages to reply, struggling to suppress his natural desire to accost her with a string of expletives.

  She leans over and whispers in his ear, “Do you know your penis is hanging out of your trousers and spunk is dribbling on to your shoes?”

  “Know it?” says the pianist with a wink. “I fucking wrote it!”

  I parked in a disabled space today and was accosted by a traffic warden.

  “Oi, you!” he shouted, as I walked away from my car. “What’s your disability?”

  “Tourette’s,” I replied. “Now fuck off, you cunt!”

  A man walks in to a library and asks for a book on Tourette’s.

  The librarian replies, “Fuck off, you cunt.”

  The man says, “Yep, that’s the one.”

  A man went to visit his sister and his nephew, Mike, who had Tourette’s.

  He was waiting for his sister to bring in some tea, when all of a sudden his nephew looked at him and said, “Open the door, you cunt.”

  Naturally he was more than a little embarrassed and pretended not to hear. The nephew said again, “Open the fucking door, you cunt.”

  Feeling very awkward and not knowing how to respond, again he pretended he heard nothing. The nephew started getting very agitated and said once again, “You useless cunt, open the fucking door.”

  At this point, to his huge relief, his sister came into the room and said, “Don’t worry, dear, he’s just trying to tell you a knock-knock joke.”

  For years I thought my dad suffered from Tourette’s. Turns out he just thought I was a cunt.

  TRAINS

  A man was sitting on a train eating a bag of fresh prawns, ripping off the heads and shells and then tossing them out of the window. An older woman, sitting opposite him, said, “Do you mind not doing that? It’s rather disgusting.”

  “Listen love,” he replied, “it’s got fuck all to do with you. I’ve paid my fare for this journey and I’ll do what I want on this train.” He carried on ripping off the shells, lobbing them out of the window and eating the prawns. Finally he finished the bag and settled back for a nap.

  The woman then started some knitting and all the man could hear while he was trying to sleep was the incessant clicking of her knitting needles. After a while, he said to the woman, “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?”

  “It’s got nothing to do with you,” replied the old woman, “I’ve paid my fare and I’ll do what I want on this train.”

  At that, the man grabbed the woman’s knitting and threw it out of the window. The woman immediately stood up and pulled the train alarm cord.

  “You’ll get fined £200 for that!” laughed the man.

  To which the old woman replied, “And you’ll get five years when the police smell your fingers.”

  A bishop is sitting on a train doing The Times crossword. Absentmindedly, he says aloud: “Exclusively female, blank-U-N-T”

  A young curate sitting next to him suggests: “Aunt?”

  “You’re right,” says the bishop. “I don’t suppose you have a rubber?”

  A man goes to the ticket office at the railway station and asks: “Can I have a second glass return to Mottinghab, please?”

  “Sorry,” replies the ticket clerk, “I don’t understand.”

  “Can I have a second glass return to Mottinghab, please?’

  “Oh I see,” says the clerk. “Have you tried sucking menthol sweets, sir?’

  “Why, do they cure cerebral palsy?”

  A few days after Christmas, a mother was working in the kitchen, listening to her young son playing with his new electric train in the living room. She heard the train stop and her son said, “All of you sons of bitches who want to get off, get the fuck off now, ’cause this is the last stop! And all of you sons of bitches who are getting on, get your asses in the train.”

  The mother went nuts and told her son, “We don’t use that kind of language in this house. Now I want you to go to your room and you are to stay there for two hours and think about what you’ve done.”

  Two hours later, the son came out of the bedroom and resumed playing with his train. Soon the train stopped and the mother heard her son say, “All passengers who are disembarking from the train, please remember to take all of your belongings with you. We thank you for riding with us today.” She heard the little boy continue, “For those of you just boarding, we ask you to stow all of your hand luggage under your seat.”

  As the mother smiled, the child added, “For those of you pissed off about the two-hour delay, please refer to the fucker in the kitchen.”

  TRANSVESTITES/TRANSGENDERED

  I’ve got a friend who is a fat, alcoholic, transvestite. All he does is eat, drink and be Mary.

  Nelson Mandela recently met with controversial 800-metre runner Caster Semenya. It turns out that the two have much in common. Specifically, South African roots and an ability to piss while standing up.

  When I was just a little girl,

  I asked my mother: “What will I be?

  Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?”

  Here’s what she said to me:

  “You’re a boy. Now get out of your sister’s clothes and fuck off to school.”

  I’ve just found out that my best mate is a transsexual and has had a boob job.

  I’ll never be able to look him in the face again.

  South African 800-metre star Caster Semenya was asked to take a gender test just hours before the world championship final to prove that she was a woman. According to the IAAF, the gender verification test was an extremely complex procedure, involving extensive tests, endocrinologists, gynaecologists and psychologists, to establish whether Cas
ter Semenya is a woman or not. Or they could just get her to park a car.

  Hollywood producers are in discussions to make a film about the life of South African runner Caster Semenya. Will Smith has agreed to play the lead role.

  Mike was sitting by the bar knocking back a few beers after work when a beautiful woman sat down next to him. She looked vaguely familiar, but Mike couldn’t quite place her.

  “Hi, Mike,” she said. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.”

  “Kev, is that you?” said Mike. “Why are you dressed up like a woman?”

  “Well, Mike. It’s a long story, but the bottom line is that I have always felt like a woman trapped in a man’s body, so I finally decided to do something about it. And, after a number of painful operations, I am now a woman.”

  Mike was shocked, but couldn’t help staring at his friend’s pert breasts, “Bloody hell, Kev, I bet it was painful to have those implants put in.”

  “Yep, but that wasn’t the most painful part,” said Kev.

  “Oh Christ,” said Mike. “You mean you had your dick and testicles cut off? That must have been horrifc.”

  “Yes, that was pretty painful, but that wasn’t the worst part.”

  “I don’t believe it, mate. What could possibly be worse than that?”

  “The final operation was the worst. That was when they did a craniotomy and took out half of my brain.”

  Offcials at the World Athletics World Championships launched an investigation after female competitors complained that someone had been repeatedly leaving the toilet seat up after having a piss.