I go to the local post office every day,the other week,
talking with the two girls that work there,
I said......

'Have you seen that advert on the lamp post outside,
for the sale of a Old English Sheep Dog...
you know one of them Dulux Dogs' ..

'It's one year old,
had seven owners and up for sale again!'

'Ahhh I wonder what's wrong with it? '
said one of the girls.

I said
'Apparentley ....it can't paint!'

They refused to serve me.

Sad news last night south's dad passed away.
She's gone to be with her mum for sometime.

Paddy is planning to marry,
he is, and asks his family doctor how he could tell if his bride-to-be is still a virgin.
His doctor says,
"Aye, Paddy, all Irish use three things for what we call a
Do-It-Yourself.... Virginity Test Kit....
a small can of red paint,
a small can of blue paint and a shovel."

Paddy asks,
"Aye, and what do I do with these things, doctor?"

The doctor replies,
"Before ye climb into bed on your wedding night,
you paint one of your balls red and the other ball blue.
If she says,
"That's the strangest pair of balls I ever did see...",
you hit her with the shovel.'

A guy and a girl meet at a bar.

They get along so well that they decide to go to the girl's place.

A few drinks later, the guy takes off his shirt and then washes his hands.

He then takes off his trousers and again washes his hands.
The girl has been watching him and says:

"You must be a dentist."
The guy, surprised, says:
"Yes .... How did you figure that out?"
"Easy.." she replies, "you keep washing your hands."
One thing leads to another and they make love.
After it's over the girl says: "You must be a good dentist."

The guy, now with an inflated ego, says:
"Sure - I'm a good dentist. How did you figure that out?"
The girl replies:.....


"Didn't feel a thing."

This bloke with Tourette's Syndrome walks into the most exclusive restaurant in town.
'Where's the pissing, motherfucking manager, you cocksucking arsewipe?' he inquires of one of the waiters.

The waiter is taken-aback and replies, 'Excuse me sir but could you please refrain from using that sort of language in here. I will get the manager as soon as I can'.

The manager comes over and the bloke asks, 'Are you the chicken-fucking manager of this bastard place?'

'Yes sir, I am,' replies the manager, 'but I would prefer it if you could refrain from speaking such profanities in this, a private restaurant'.

'Fuck off' replies the bloke 'and where's the fucking piano?'

'Pardon?' says the manager.

'Fucking deaf as well, are we? You snivelling little piece of shit, show me your cunting piano.'
'Ah,' replies the manager, 'you've come about the pianist job' and shows the bloke to the piano.
'Can you play any blues?'

'Of course I fucking can,' and the bloke proceeds to play the most inspiring and beautiful sounding honky-tonk blues that the manager has ever heard.

'That's superb. What's it called?'

'I tried to shag yer missus on the sofa but the springs kept hurting my dick,' replies the bloke.

The manager is a bit disturbed and asks if the bloke knows any jazz.
The bloke proceeds, playing the most melancholy jazz solo the manager has ever heard.
'Magnificent,' cries the manager. 'What's it called?'

'I wanted a wank over the washing machine but I got my balls caught in the soap drawer'.

The manager is a tad embarrassed and asks if he knows any romantic ballads.
The bloke then plays the most heartbreaking melody the manager has ever heard,

'And what's this called?' asks the manager
'As I fuck you under the stars with the moonlight shining off your hairy ring-piece,' replies the bloke.

The manager is highly upset by the bloke's language but offers him the job on condition that he doesn't introduce any of his songs or talk to any of the customers.

This arrangement works well for a couple of months until one night, sitting opposite him, is the most gorgeous blonde he has ever laid his eyes on. She's wearing an almost see through dress, her breasts are almost falling out the top of her black lace bra,and the skimpy little 'G' string she's wearing is doing very little to conceal her ample charms.

She's sitting there with her legs slightly open, sucking suggestively on asparagus shoots as the butter is dripping down her chin. The image is too much for the bloke and he scurries off to the Gents to furiously masturbate.

He's tugging away furiously when he hears the manager's voice. 'Where's that bastard pianist?'

He just has time to relieve himself, and in a fluster he runs back to the piano having not bothered to adjust himself properly, sits down and starts playing some more tunes.

The blonde steps up and walks over to the piano, leans over and whispers in his ear, 'Do you know your knob and bollocks are hanging out your trousers and dripping spunk on your shoes?'

The bloke replies 'Know it? I fucking wrote it.'

Now don't complain that I'm not open and forthcoming with information!



Remember the little dutch boy who saved his village by putting his finger in a dyke.

Wouldn't be allowed today..

The lesbian community would be demanding it be changed to a "little dutch girl".

This would drag in the child protection Authorities who would be demanding proof of age.

The gay community would be pissed that it wasn't a boy putting his finger into a homosexual.

Hetrosexuals would be demanding that it's their right to allow it be kept as is as being a boy giving credence to the right for equal rights in sexual expression.

The church would be saying the boy did it to convert the dyke back to hetrosexuality.

The Medical community, social welfare and human ethics activists would be demanding a suitable trial period be held to determine if putting ones finger in a dyke could be harmeful to the either the boy or the dyke.

The corp of engineers would be demanding they be allowed to go over the dyke to see if they could shore her up to alleviate any flooding should the finger trick fail.

The government would be demanding an independant tribunal to determmine who was to fault and whose jurisdiction it came under.

Unionists would want both the dyke and the boy to be paid up members before anything could begin.

Greenpeace would by sending the Rainbow Warrior in to
"Save the Dykes"

and the Animal Welfarists would be demanding that the whole thing be stopped in order to protect the pussy from some evil little sod poking it with his/her finger.

Life was so much simplier back then.


Like I said..nothing much going on in my mind today!!

What would they have driven?


Most people assume WWJD is for "What would Jesus do?". But the initials really have been changed to stand for "What would Jesus drive?".

One theory is that Jesus would tool around in an old Plymouth because the Bible says, "God drove Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden in a Fury".

But in Psalm 83, the Almighty clearly owns a Pontiac and a Geo. The passage urges the Jesus to "pursue your enemies with your Tempest and terrify them with your Storm".

Perhaps God favors Dodge pickup trucks, because Moses' followers are warned not to go up a mountain "until the Ram's horn sounds a long blast".

Some scholars insist that Jesus drove a Honda but didn't like to talk about it. As proof, they cite a verse in St. John's gospel where Christ tells the crowd, "For I did not speak of my own Accord..."

Meanwhile, Moses rode an old British motorcycle, as evidenced by a Bible passage declaring that "the roar of Moses' Triumph is heard in the hills".

Joshua drove a Triumph sports car with a hole in its muffler: "Joshua's Triumph was heard throughout the land". And, following Jesus' lead, the Apostles car pooled in a Honda... "The Apostles were in one Accord."

You know what... come here a mo....
Are you breathing? on your own?
Are you able to walk unassisted?
Are you able to wash yourself?
Are you able to string a sentence together?
...
Yes to any of the above?

Then you are alive and very, very lucky......

Get on with living... One life.......

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His Father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence. The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.
Finally the day came when the boy didn't lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper.
The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence He said, 'You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same..
When you say things in anger,they leave a scar just like this one.
You can put a knife in a man and draw it out.
It won't matter how many times you say I'm sorry, the wound is still there.

' A verbal
wound is as bad as a physical one.

A SHORT LOVE STORY

A man and a woman who had never met before, but who were both married to other people, found themselves assigned to the same sleeping room on a trans-continental train.


Though initially embarrassed and uneasy over sharing a room, they were both very tired and fell asleep quickly, he in the upper berth and she in the lower.

At 1: 00 AM, the man leaned down and gently woke the woman saying,..........'Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to reach into the closet to get me a second blanket? I'm awfully cold'



'I have a better idea,' she replied 'Just for tonight......let's pretend that we're married'

'Wow!......................That's a great idea!' he exclaimed..

'Good,' she replied................'Get your own damn blanket.'

After a moment of silence, ........................he farted.

The End