one for RHC
A man has promised his French squeeze he'd cook up her favourite dish, escargot, to make up for his frequent and lengthy visits to his local hostelry. So he purchased some snails from his local foreign food market and decided to call in at his local for a flagon of frothing ale.
Unfortunately, as usual, one became many as he was once again seduced by the friendly atmosphere, banter and flowing ethyl alcohol. Eventually closing time rolls around and he begrudgingly leaves, with his bag of snails, to face his inevitably infuriated Gallic girlfriend.
No sooner has he opened the gate leading up to his house when he sees, through the window, his missus storming to the front door. He quickly throws the bag of snails to the floor, before his furious spouse opens the door, and, when she flings the door open with fury written large on her expressive froggy face, the man says in a jolly voice:
"Come on, lads, nearly home!"
Frog bitch 
A man goes to the Doctors for his test results.
The Doctor says "I'm afraid you've only got six months to live"
"Oh my God no,what can I do Doctor?"
The Doctor replies "Well I recommend you move to Merseyside,marry a fat bird and start supporting Everton !"
"Will that cure me Doctor?"
"No it won't but it'll make the six months seem like a fecking lifetime " .

"What would you like?" says the barman.
"What would I like?" says Bob. "A bigger house, more money and a more attractive wife."
"No," says the barman, patiently. "I meant what do you want?"
"To win the lottery, for my mother-in-law to die and for my child to be born healthy!"
"What's it to be?" says the barman, less patiently.
"A boy or a girl, I don't care."
"You misunderstand me," says the barman, impatiently, "I only asked what you want to drink."
"Oh," says Bob, "I see. Why didn't you say so? What have you got?"
"Nothing at all," says the barman. "I'm perfectly healthy."

"What would you like?" says the barman.
"What would I like?" says Bob. "A bigger house, more money and a more attractive wife."
"No," says the barman, patiently. "I meant what do you want?"
"To win the lottery, for my mother-in-law to die and for my child to be born healthy!"
"What's it to be?" says the barman, less patiently.
"A boy or a girl, I don't care."
"You misunderstand me," says the barman, impatiently, "I only asked what you want to drink."
"Oh," says Bob, "I see. Why didn't you say so? What have you got?"
"Nothing at all," says the barman. "I'm perfectly healthy."