TOP 10 SIGNS THAT YOUR SON HAS GROWN TOO OLD FOR BREAST FEEDING 10. He can open your Blouse by himself. 9. While suckling at one Breast, he caresses the other. 8. He has developed a bad habit of flicking his Tongue. 7. He keeps slipping a £10 notes in your Belt. 6. He uses your milk as creamer for his Coffee. 5. Your Birth Control Pills interfere with his Acne Medicine. 4. After each feeding, he has a Smoke. 3. He frequently invites his friends over for Dinner. 2. You feel an uncontrollable urge to listen to Dueling Banjos. 1. Beard Abrasions on your Nipples.
Just a word of warning please log in to view this image : when you buy your copies of The Mail, be careful not to look at any of the pages ESPECIALLY the crossword! We've had reliable information that people have bought @DailyMailUK for the crossword and have ended up becoming Nazis. please log in to view this image
A Vicar gets on a train. In his carriage is a group of five fine looking young ladies. To break the ice, the vicar offers round his Bag of "Werther's Originals" and then asks, "So, what do all you young Ladies do"..??? "We do Christmas Panto. We're currently starring in "Dick Whittington!" reply the girls. "That's fabulous. Which parts do you take"..?? says the Vicar. The First Lady says, "I take the part of the Cat." The Second Lady continues, "I take the part of Buttons." "Really?" asks the vicar. "Who takes Dick"..??? "Well, I Do ... " says the Third Girl, " ... but it'll cost you a lot more than a ****in' "Werther's Original"...!
Bob came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife, and fell into a deep slumber. He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter said, "You died in your sleep, Bob." Bob was stunned. "I'm dead? No, I can't be! I've got too much to live for. Send me back! Please!" St. Peter said, "I'm sorry, but there's only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken." Bob was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home....The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking, and pecking the ground. A rooster strolled past. "So, you're the new hen, huh? How's your first day here?" "Not bad," replied Bob the hen, "but I have this strange feeling inside. Like I'm gonna explode!" "You're ovulating," explained the rooster. "Don't tell me you've never laid an egg before?" "Never," said Bob. "Well, just relax and let it happen," says the rooster. "It's no big deal." Bob did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! Bob was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg -- his joy was overwhelming. As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard his wife yelling..... "BOB, wake up for ****sake,"You've just shat the bed!"
Two middle-aged women, Gladys and Mable, are chatting. "Mable, do you think as you get older your fanny actually gets looser?" "Ooh I don't know." replied Mable. "I had sex with my Henry last night and, to be honest, I felt like the outside of a sausage roll!" Gladys looked unconvinced. "Have you tried looking at it?" asked Mable. "Look at it? I don't know, I mean I'm putting the beef on at my age." said Gladys patting her middle-aged pot-belly. "Here's what you do," confided Mable. "Take a mirror from off of the wall and lay it on the floor, then stand astride it and you'll get a good look at your twat." "Hey, that's a good idea!" said Gladys, and trotted off home to try it out. At home, Gladys is standing in the bathroom, mirror on floor and legs akimbo, peering at her twat in the mirror's reflection. Her husband is walking past the doorway when he spots what's going on. He charges into the bathroom and shoves Gladys hard against the wall. "Ooh George! You ****ing bastard!! You could have broke my bloody arm then!!" she whined. "You ungrateful cow!" George retorted. "If you'd have fallen down that hole you'd have broken your ****ing back!!"
I was telling a girl I met in a bar last night about my uncanny ability to guess the day a woman was born on just by feeling her tits. "Really?" she said. "Go on then... Try." After about 30 seconds of fondling she began to lose patience. "Come on," she demanded, "What day was I born on?" "Yesterday?" I replied.
please log in to view this image When you write a letter to Satan instead of Santa asking for a puppy.
