The Pope had become very ill and was taken to many doctors who were all quite skilled in the latest medical techniques. None of them could figure out how to cure him, or even what ailed him.
Finally, a wise old physician was brought in. After an hour he came out and told the cardinals that the bad news was that the Pope had a difficult disorder of the testicles ---terminal blue balls. He said that the good news was that all the Pope had to do to be cured was to have sex a couple of times.
Well, of course this was not good news to the cardinals, who argued about it at length. Finally they went to the Pope himself with the doctor and explained the situation.
After some thought, the Pope stated, "I reluctantly agree, but only under four very strict conditions."
The cardinals were amazed and there arose quite an uproar. Over all of the noise there came a single voice that asked, "And what are the four conditions?" The room immediately stilled.
The Pope replied, "First, the girl must be blind, so that she cannot see with whom she is having sex. Second, she must be deaf, so that she cannot hear with whom she is having sex. And third, she must be mute so that if she somehow figures it all out, she can tell no one."
After another long pause, a voice finally asked, "And the fourth condition?"
The Pope replied, "Big tits!"

A young girl started work in the village chemist shop.

She was very shy about having to sell condoms to the public.

The owner was going on holiday for a couple of days and asked if she would be willing to run the shop on her own.
She had to confide in him her worries about selling the contraceptives.

"Look," he said. "My regular customers don't ask for condoms, they'll ask for a 310 [small] a 320[medium] or a 330[large]. The word condom won't even be used. EVER!"

The first day was fine but on the second day a guy came into the shop, put out his hand and said "350".
The girl panicked. She phoned the owner on his mobile and told him of her predicament.
"Go back in and check if he has a yellow bucket hanging between his legs," her boss told her.
She peeped through the door and saw the yellow bucket hanging between his legs. "Yes !" she said "He's got a big one hanging there"
The boss said "Go back in and give him £3-50.
He's the Window cleaner"

An Afghan, an Albanian, an Algerian, an American, an Andorran, an Angolan, an Antiguans, an Argentine, an Armenian, an Australian, an Austrian, an Azerbaijani, a Bahamian, a Bahraini, a Bangladeshi, a Barbadian, a Barbudans, a Batswanan, a Belarusian, a Belgian, a Belizean, a Beninese, a Bhutanese, a Bolivian, a Bosnian, a Brazilian, a Brit, a Bruneian, a Bulgarian, a Burkinabe, a Burmese, a Burundian, a Cambodian, a Cameroonian, a Canadian, a Cape Verdean, a Central African, a Chadian, a Chilean, a Chinese, a Colombian, a Comoran, a Congolese, a Costa Rican, a Croatian, a Cuban, a Cypriot, a Czech, a Dane, a Djibouti, a Dominican, a Dutchman, an East Timorese, an Ecuadorean, an Egyptian, an Emirian, an Equatorial Guinean, an Eritrean, an Estonian, an Ethiopian, a Fijian, a Filipino, a Finn, a Frenchman, a Gabonese, a Gambian, a Georgian, a German, a Ghanaian, a Greek, a Grenadian, a Guatemalan, a Guinea-Bissauan, a Guinean, a Guyanese, a Haitian, a Herzegovinian, a Honduran, a Hungarian, an I-Kiribati, an Icelander, an Indian, an Indonesian, an Iranian, an Iraqi, an Irishman, an Israeli, an Italian, an Ivorian, a Jamaican, a Japanese, a Jordanian, a Kazakhstani, a Kenyan, a Kittian and Nevisian, a Kuwaiti, a Kyrgyz, a Laotian, a Latvian, a Lebanese, a Liberian, a Libyan, a Liechtensteiner, a Lithuanian, a Luxembourger, a Macedonian, a Malagasy, a Malawian, a Malaysian, a Maldivan, a Malian, a Maltese, a Marshallese, a Mauritanian, a Mauritian, a Mexican, a Micronesian, a Moldovan, a Monacan, a Mongolian, a Moroccan, a Mosotho, a Motswana, a Mozambican, a Namibian, a Nauruan, a Nepalese, a New Zealander, a Nicaraguan, a Nigerian, a Nigerien, a North Korean, a Northern Irishman, a Norwegian, an Omani, a Pakistani, a Palauan, a Palestinian, a Panamanian, a Papua New Guinean, a Paraguayan, a Peruvian, a Pole, a Portuguese, a Qatari, a Romanian, a Russian, a Rwandan, a Saint Lucian, a Salvadoran, a Samoan, a San Marinese, a Sao Tomean, a Saudi, a Scottish, a Senegalese, a Serbian, a Seychellois, a Sierra Leonean, a Singaporean, a Slovakian, a Slovenian, a Solomon Islander, a Somali, a South African, a South Korean, a Spaniard, a Sri Lankan, a Sudanese, a Surinamer, a Swazi, a Swede, a Swiss, a Syrian, a , a Tajik, a Tanzanian, a Togolese, a Tongan, a Trinidadian or Tobagonian, a Tunisian, a Turkish, a Tuvaluan, a Ugandan, a Ukrainian, a Uruguayan, a Uzbekistani, a Venezuelan, a Vietnamese, a Welshman, a Yemenite, a Zambian and a Zimbabwean all go to a nightclub...

The doorman stops them and says
"Sorry, I cant let you in without a Thai".

A widow checked into a motel on her 70th birthday and she was a bit lonely. She thought, "I'll call one of those men you see advertised in phone books for escorts and sensual massages.
She looked through the phone book, found a full page ad for a guy calling himself Tender Tony – a very handsome man with assorted physical skills.

He had all the right muscles in all the right places, thick wavy hair, long powerful legs, dazzling smile, great abs and she felt quite certain she he would cure what ailed her....
She figured, what the heck, nobody will ever know. I'll give him a call.

"Good evening, ma'am, how may I help you?" . . . Oh my, he sounded sooo sexy!

Afraid she would lose her nerve if she hesitated, she rushed right in, "Hi, I hear you give a great massage, I'd like you to come to my motel room and give me one.
No, wait, I should be straight with you. I'm in town all alone and what I really want is sex. I want it hot, and I want it now. Bring implements, toys, rubber, leather, whips, everything you've got in your bag of tricks!”

“We'll go hot and heavy all night - tie me up, cover me in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, anything and everything, I' m ready!! Now how does that sound?"

He said, "That sounds absolutely fantastic, but you need to press 9 for an outside line."

Just having a chat with a bloke yesterday. I discovered he was worth around $4 million and he shared the amazing story of how he got so rich.

Basically, when he left school he had little or no formal qualifications but he was good with his hands and he knew how to sell. He knew he was never going to make it in an office job so it was nose to the grindstone time.

He told me how he left school at 15 and bought an old caravan cheap and spent a few weeks fixing it up, he then sold it for profit. He then used the money to buy another and so on. He did this a lot over the next 35 years, buying, repairing, selling, buying again.

He eventually moved onto motorhomes in the 90's and then onto cars in the last eight or nine years even during the real bad times he plugged away.
He worked long hours sometimes not seeing his wife and kids for days in pursuit of his goal.

Then his uncle died and left him $4 million.

There are approximately two billion children (persons under 1 in the world. However, since Santa does not visit children of Muslim, Hindu, Jewish or Buddhist religions, this reduces the workload for Christmas night to 15% of the total, or 378 million (according to the Population Reference Bureau). At an average (census) rate of 3.5 children per house hold, that comes to 108 million homes, presuming that there is at least one good child in each.

Santa has about 31 hours of Christmas to work with, thanks to the different time zones and the rotation of the earth, assuming he travels east to west (which seems logical). This works out to 967.7 visits per second. This is to say that for each Christian household with a good child, Santa has around 1/1000th of a second to park the sleigh, hop out, jump down the chimney, fill the stockings, distribute the remaining presents under the tree, eat whatever snacks have been left for him, get back up the chimney, jump into the sleigh and get on to the next house.

Assuming that each of these 108 million stops is evenly distributed around the earth (which, of course, we know to be false, but will accept for the purpose of the calculations), we are now talking about 0.78 miles (1.3 km) per household; a total trip of 75.5 million miles (125.83 million km), not counting bathroom stops or breaks. This means Santa’s sleigh is moving at 650 miles per second (1083 km/s), 3000 times the speed of sound. For purposes of comparison, the fastest manmade vehicle, the Ulysses space probe, moves at poky 27.4 miles per second (45.7 km/s), and a conventional reindeer can run (at best) 15 miles per hour (25 km/h) - that is four thousands of a mile (4/1000) per second (6.9 m/s).

The payload of the sleigh adds another interesting element. Assuming that each child gets nothing more than a medium size Lego set (two pounds, or 0.906 kg, that is), the sleigh is carrying over 500 thousand tons US (508,000 t metric), not counting Santa himself. On land, a conventional reindeer can pull no more than 300 pounds (136 kg). Even granting that the “flying” reindeer could pull ten times the normal amount, the job can’t be done with only eight or even nine of them - Santa would need 360,000 of them. This increases the payload, not counting the weight of the sleigh, another 54,000 tons (54,864 t metric), or roughly seven times the weight of the Queen Elizabeth (the ship, not the monarch).

600,000 tons (606,600 t metric) travelling at 650 miles per second (1083 km/s) creates enormous air resistance, and this would heat up the reindeer in the same fashion as a spacecraft re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. The lead pair of reindeer would absorb 14.3 quintillion Joules of energy per second each. In short, they would burst in flames almost instantaneously, exposing the reindeer behind them and creating deafening sonic booms in their wake. The entire reindeer team would be vaporized within 4.26 thousands of a second (0.00426 s), or right about the time Santa reached the fifth house on his trip.

Not that it matters, however, since Santa, as a result of accelerating from dead stop to 650 miles per second (1083 km/s) in 0.001 seconds, would be subjected top acceleration forces of 17,500 g’s. A 250 pound (113 kg) Santa (which seems ludicrously slim) would be pinned to the back of the sleigh by 4,315,015 pounds of force (195,470 kg force, or 1.9547 MN), instantly crushing his bones and organs and reducing him to a quivering blob of pink goo.

Therefore, if Santa did exist, he's dead now!

I was at work at Carphone Warehouse yesterday when I received this text from my wife:
'Thespacebuttonisfaultyonthisphone.
Whenyougethomepleasegivemeanalternative.'
And as I rushed home, I couldn't help but wonder...
"WTF does 'ternative' mean ?"

A priest hooks a huge fish. Helping him reel it in, a sailor says "Whoa, look at the size of that fucker!" "Hey, mind your language!" says the priest. Embarrassed, the sailor thinks quickly and blurts out "Sorry father, but that's what this fish is called - it's a Fucker fish"
Accepting the explanation, the priest forgives the sailor and takes the fish back to church.
"Look at this huge fucker" says the priest, spotting the bishop. "Language please! This is God's house" replies the bishop. "No, no - that's what this fish is called" says the priest. "Oh" says the bishop, scratching his chin "I could clean that fucker and we could have it for dinner".
So the bishop takes the fish, cleans it, and brings it to the mother superior. "Could you cook this fucker for dinner tonight?" he asks her. "My, what language!" she exclaims, clearly shocked. "No, sister that's what the fish is called - a fucker" says the bishop. Satisfied with the explanation, the mother superior says "Wonderful, I'll cook that fucker tonight, the Pope is coming for dinner!"
The fish tastes just great and the Pope asks where they got it. "Well, I caught the fucker!" says the priest. "And I cleaned the fucker!" says the bishop. "And I cooked the fucker!" says the mother superior.
The Pope stares at them for a minute with a steely glaze, leans back on his chair, takes off his cap, puts his feet up on the table, pours himself a whiskey and says "You know what? You cunts are alright"

A woman joins a country club and when she hears the guys talking about their golf round:

She says. "I played on my college's golf team.
I was pretty good. Mind if I join you next week?"

No one wants to say 'yes', but they're on the spot…

Finally, one man says. "Okay, but we start at 6:30 a.m."

He figures the early tee-time will discourage her.

The woman says this may be a problem and asks if she can be up to 15 minutes late.

They roll their eyes, but say. "Okay."

She's there at 6:30 am. sharp and beats all of them with an eye-opening 2-under par round.

She's fun and pleasant and the guys are impressed.

They congratulate her and invite her back the next week.

She smiles, and says. "I'll be there at 6:30, or 6:45."

The next week she again shows up at 6:30 sharp.

Only this time, she plays left-handed.

The three guys are incredulous as she still beats them with an even par round, despite playing with her off-hand.

They're totally amazed. They can't figure her out. She's very pleasant and a gracious winner.

They invite her back again, but each man harbors a burning desire to beat her.

The third week, she's 15 minutes late, which irritates the guys.

This week she plays right-handed and narrowly beats all three of them.

The men grumble that her late arrival is petty gamesmanship on her part.

However, she's so charming and complimentary of their strong play, they can't hold a grudge.

This woman is a riddle no one can figure out.

They have a couple of beers in the Clubhouse and finally, one of the men asks her. "How do you decide if you're going to golf right-handed or left-handed?"

The lady blushes, and grins. "When my dad taught me to play golf, I learned that I was ambidextrous." She replies. "I like to switch back and forth. When I got married after college, I discovered my husband always sleeps in the nude. From then on, I developed a silly habit. Right before I leave in the morning for golf practice, I pull the covers off him. If his willie points to the right, I golf right-handed; if it points to the left, I golf left-handed."

The guys think this is hysterical.

Astonished at this bizarre information, one of the guys says. "What if it's pointing straight up?"

She says. "That's why I was fifteen minutes late."

Dedicated to AdeleGingerRaine.