Little Johnny, Billy, and Tommy were walking home from school one warm spring day. As they were cutting through the alleys and backyards, They happened to look through a hole in the fence of one of the yards where a woman was sunbathing in the nude. As they looked through the hole, Johnny suddenly started to scream, left his friends and took off running for home. The next day, as the three boys came home again, they found the same hole in the fence and started to watch the woman. Again, after just a few minutes, Johnny started screaming and ran off quickly. On the third day, the boys were peeping into the hole in the fence again after school, when Johnny turned around and started to run again. But this time, Bill and Tommy grabbed him and demanded to know what was wrong. Johnny replied, “My mother told me that if I ever looked at a naked woman, I would turn to stone… And I started to feel a part of me getting awfully hard!
First off, THANK YOU EVERYONE for your concern. I'm ok, just a little shaken up, but l'll be ok. For those of you who don't know what happened, I was robbed this afternoon at the petrol station Robert’s Garage . I gathered myself together, my hands were still shaking, I was dizzy and I honestly think I was in shock. My money was gone. I called the police, they were fantastic and called for medical assistance as my blood pressure was through the roof. The police asked me if I knew who did it, and I told them "Yes, it was pump number 2.”
THE VENTRILOQUIST A young ventriloquist was touring Sweden and, one night, he was doing a show in a small fishing town. With his dummy on his knee, he started going through some of his standard dumb blonde jokes. Suddenly, a blonde woman in the fourth row stood on her chair and started shouting: "I've heard enough of your stupid blonde jokes. What makes you think you can stereotype Swedish blonde women that way? What does the colour of a woman's hair have to do with her worth as a human being? It's men like you who keep women like me from being respected at work and in the community, and from reaching our full potential as people. It's people like you who make others think that all blondes are dumb! You and your kind continue to perpetuate discrimination against, not only blondes, but women in general; pathetically, all in the name of humour!" The stunned ventriloquist started to apologize, but the blonde interrupted and screamed: " You stay out of this! I'm talking to that little sh*t sitting on your lap."
MAKING BABIES The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, 'Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon.' Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. 'Good morning, he said, "I've come to..." "Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you." 'Have you really?" Said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?" "Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat." After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there." "Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!" "Well, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results." "My, that's a lot!" Gasped Mrs. Smith. "In my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be In and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that." "Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smith quietly. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said. "Oh, my God!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat. "And these twins turned out exceptionally well, when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with." "She was difficult?" Asked Mrs. Smith. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look." "Four and five deep?" Said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement. "Yes", the photographer replied, "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in." Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh .. . . .equipment?" "It's true, yes. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away." "Tripod?" "Oh yes, I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand for very long." Mrs. Smith fainted.
I had a job at a Cadbury's factory putting fudge bars in to boxes. I had to quit though because every time someone would walk past they would say, "Oh packing fudge are we?" Or "Hey up, he's packing fudge again." Since then I've applied for a job in a clothing factory lifting boxes of shirts. I'm hoping the name calling will stop now.
