I’ll kick this off…
What is ET short for?
he’s only got little legs
What is orange and sounds like a parrot?
A carrot
What did the drummer call his twin daughters?
Anna1 anna2
I’ll kick this off…
What is ET short for?
he’s only got little legs
What is orange and sounds like a parrot?
A carrot
What did the drummer call his twin daughters?
Anna1 anna2
What a world we live in!
What’s the Greek letter for cow?
Mu!
What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?
A stick
What did the fish say when it hit a concrete wall.
Dam!
What’s long brown and sticky?
A stick
What’s long white and sticky?
Peter Crouch
I was singing ‘Wonderwall’ loudly earlier today,
My wife told me to stop
I said maybe…
Not really a joke but one of my kids dropped his hat next to a lookout.
I walked around onto the grass to go get it.
Saw a shiny stick on the ground…
There’s no shiny sticks you idiot.
Red bellied black snake looked up and said hi
An Ancient Roman walks into a bar, holds up two fingers and says:
“5 beers thanks”
2 men walk into a bar, you’d think the second would have ducked
I was approached, last week, about potentially managing a football team part time in Sheffield. I said, “well I can’t do Wednesday.”
What’s a word that starts with F, ends with CK and suggests lots of heat, sweat and excitement? Firetruck
Did you hear the joke about the garbage truck? You know what? Don’t worry, it was a load of rubbish…
What about the joke about the highest wall in the world? Couldn’t get over it…
There was a little boy who lived in a far away land. Close to the boy’s home, there was a tall mountain, always covered in snow at the top. Also at the top of the mountain, there was an ancient monastery where ancient monks lived.
Sometimes, the little boy, as he was riding his tricycle around his yard, would look up at the monastery on the tall mountain and wonder what it was like up there.
One day, when the wind was blowing down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold and the little boy could hear a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.
So, the little boy made a peanut butter sandwich, hopped on his tricycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours and hours, but he finally made it to the top. He bravely pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.
“Hello, Mr. Monk, sir. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?”
“I’m sorry,” replied the head monk, “I can’t tell you. You aren’t a monk.”
Sadly, the little boy got back on his tricycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.
The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was a bit bigger and stronger now and now rode around town on his bicycle.
As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.
So, the bigger boy made a ham and cheese sandwich, hopped on his bicycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him hours, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.
“Hey, Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?”
“I’m sorry,” replied the head monk, “I can’t tell you. You aren’t a monk.”
Sadly, the big boy got back on his bicycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.
The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy had grown into a strapping youth now and rode around town on his motorcycle.
As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.
So, the strapping youth grabbed a slice of pizza, hopped on his motorcycle and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 30 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.
“Yo, Mr. Monk, dude. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?”
“I’m sorry,” replied the head monk, “I can’t tell you. You aren’t a monk.”
Sadly, the strapping youth got back on his motorcycle and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.
The wind did not blow down off the mountain again until a couple years later. The boy was now a young man and often rode around in his new convertible sportscar.
As luck would have it, he was out riding when the wind blew down off the mountain, the air turned quite cold, and he heard a very strange noise on the wind. It was coming from the monastery! He could not figure out what could possibly be making such a strange noise and he was curious.
So, the young man bought a burger at a fast food place, got in his convertible sportscar, and started his ride up to the monastery. It took him 20 minutes, but he finally made it to the top. He pounded on the massive door to the monastery and the head monk opened the door.
“Mr. Monk. Down at my home in the valley below, I heard a very strange noise coming from your monastery. Could you tell me what it is?”
“I’m sorry,” replied the head monk, “I can’t tell you. You aren’t a monk.”
Sadly, the young man got back in his convertible sportscar and rode all the way home, in a very foul and frustrated mood. He really did want to know what was making that noise.
That night, he thought and thought about the very strange noise and how he just had to know what caused it. So, he resolved to do something about it the next day.
The next day, he got in his convertible sportscar and raced up the mountain, slammed on his brakes, and skidded to a stop right in front of the massive door to the monastery.
He honked the horn of his convertible sportscar until the head monk finally opened the door.
“Alright, Mr. Monk, I want to know what is making that very strange noise coming from you monastery!”
“I’m sorry,” replied the head monk, “I can’t tell you. You aren’t a monk.”
“Well, then can I become a monk?”
“Why certainly! It is quite easy. You must travel the earth and count the number of blades of grass in every field and the number of grains of sand on every beach. When you return with your answer, then you shall be a monk.”
So the young man left the monastery and travelled the earth. For years and years he counted the blades of grass and grains of sand, until one day he had finally finished. He made his way slowly back to the monastery and found the head monk.
“Oh, Mr. Monk, I have travelled the earth these past years, counting the blades of grass and grains of sand. I finally know that there are 123,123,123,123,123 blades of grass in the fields and 123,123,123,123,123 grains of sand on the beaches and I would like to become a monk.”
So the man became a monk. At last, he would now be able to find out the source of that very strange noise coming from the monastery.
“Mr. Monk, what is the noise coming from the monastery?” asked the new monk.
The head monk replied, “The source is too complicated to describe in words. I am afraid that you must see it for yourself to truly understand it. This key will show you the answer you seek.”
“Take this key to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. There you will find a long corridor. At the end of the corridor is a door and through the door is the thing that makes the noise.”
Well, of course the new monk went immediately to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery and there he did indeed find the long corridor. He walked down the corridor until he could see the door at the end.
Unfortunately, there were three magical fires that never go out blocking the man from the door. He decided to jump the fires to reach the door. The man made sure the key was secure in his hand, took a running charge at the first fire and leapt!
Over the first fire he flew, but he dropped the key. The man leapt back over the fire, ran all the way back down the long corridor, out of the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery and back to the head monk.
“Oh, Mr. Monk! I am so sorry! I went to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, down the long corridor to the door, but there were magical fires and I dropped the key in the first one as I leapt over it.”
“Do not worry, for there is another key and you must overcome tests on your way to enlightenment. The second key, however is far, far away in Canada.”
The new monk left the monastery and travelled to Canada. It took many years because he had no money, being a monk and all.
Eventually, he arrived in Canada and managed to track down the key to the door. The monk then had to make the return journey equally as painstakingly, but finally he arrived back at the monastery. Down into the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery he went, until he found the long corridor.
The three magical fires were in front of him as he took a running start.
Over the first fire went the monk, key still in hand!
Over the second fire went the monk, key still- RATS!
He had dropped the key in the second fire. The monk leapt back over the second fire, back over the first fire, back down the long corridor he walked and out of the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery. The monk went back to the head monk.
“Oh, Mr. Monk! I am so sorry! I went to the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery, down the long corridor to the door, but there were magical fires and I dropped the key in the second one as I leapt over it.”
“Do not worry, for there is one more key and we must all overcome tests on our way to enlightenment. The third key, however is far, far away in Australia.”
The monk left the monastery and travelled to Australia. It took many years because he had no money being a monk and all.
Eventually he arrived in Australia and managed to track down the key to the door. The monk then had to make the return journey equally as painstakingly, but finally he arrived back at the monastery. By this time, he was quite an old monk.
Down into the deepest, darkest corner of the coldest, dampest room in the dirtiest, filthiest cavern under the monastery he went, until he found the long corridor. The three magical fires were in front of him as he took a running start.
Over the first fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!
Over the second fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!
Over the THIRD fire went the quite old monk, key still in hand!
He had made it! He’d made the jumps and here he was standing outside the door with the answer to his question. Finally, finally, after so many, many, many years of wanting to know what was making the strange noise, he would know. The answer lay through the door in front of him and he could at last be at peace with himself.
Slowly, the quite old monk slid the key into the lock. Turning the key a slight ‘click’ was to be heard as the lock moved back allowing the quite old monk to open the door. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.
Shock and amazement came over him as he finally realized the answer to his question!
“Do you want me to tell you what it was?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. You aren’t a monk.”
Western Sydney Wanderers.
I’m offended
A skeleton walks into a bar and says I’ll have a beer and a mop
It’s a feature, not a bug.
A horse walked into a bar, the barman said - “Why the long face?”
I’m almost certain I encountered this one in a joke thread on a previous incarnation of this forum. Here it is, nonetheless.
Hans Grapje was raised in a Catholic orphanage in The Hague and as a young man, he aspired to become a priest. However, he was drafted into military service in WWII and spent two years co-piloting B17s until his aircraft was was shot down in 1943 and he lost his left arm. Captain Grapje spent the rest of the war as a chaplain, giving spiritual aid to soldiers, both Allied and the enemy.
After the war, he became a priest, serving as a missionary in Africa, piloting his own plane (in spite of his handicap) to villages across the continent. In 1997, Archbishop Grapje was serving in Zimbabwe when an explosion in a silver mine caused a cave-in. He went down into the mine to administer last rites to those too severely injured to move. Another shaft collapsed and he was buried for three days, suffering multiple injuries, including the loss of his right eye. The high silver content in the mine’s air gave him purpura, a life-long condition characterised by purplish skin blotches.
Although Cardinal Grapje devoted his life to the service of God as a scholar, mentor and holy man, church leaders agree that he will never become Pope. No-one wants a one-eyed, one-armed, flying purple Papal leader.
Ghandi is obviously a huge historical figure, but there’s a few things that people don’t really know about him. He was actually known to never wear shoes or socks, he would walk everywhere he went, which caused the soles of his feet to be extremely hardened. He was also extremely thin due to his fasting periods. Because of this, he would have huge issues with his health and regularly broke bones. On top of all this, his vegetarian diet, while very health, caused his stomach bacteria to work in overdrive, which gave him very bad breath.
In fact, one might say that Ghandi was a… Super calloused, fragile mystic, hexed by halitosis.
There once was a gentleman called Paddy who had 2 brothers. The brothers grew up together in a small town in Ireland, but after a while, they split up and each went their own way. Paddy stayed at home on the farm, but the boys agreed that once a month, on the 1st of the month, wherever they were, at exactly 6pm they would go to the nearest pub and order 3 beers. They’d each drink the 3 beers and remember the times they had together.
The brother did this for 5 years, the oldest was in London, the middle was in Newcastle and Paddy back home in Ireland. The bartender got to know Paddy quite well and every time the 1st of the month came, there would be 3 beers waiting for Paddy to drink.
One month, Paddy comes in and as the bartender is pouring the beers, Paddy walks up to him and says:
“sorry mate, just the two beers today.”
The bartender is taken back but just does the two. As Paddy drinks them, the bartender is quite distressed, thinking the worst but not knowing whether he should ask the question. In the end, he thinks to himself, it’s better for Paddy to deal with the grief, then to build it up inside, so he says:
"Listen Paddy, you’ve been coming in here every month for years and we’ve gotten to know each other so well. I know you’re close to your brothers, and I know it’s a personal question, but which one of your brothers has passed away?’
Paddy stops mid beer, surprised: “dead? what are you talking about? My brothers are completely fine! I’ve just decided to give up alcohol!”
There was a man who drove trains for a living. He loved his job. Driving a train had been his dream ever since he was a child.
He loved to make the train go as fast as possible. Unfortunately, one day he was a little too reckless and caused the train to crash. He made it out, but another person died.
The driver went to court over the incident. He was found guilty and was sentenced to death.
When the day of the execution arrived, the driver requested a single banana as his last meal. After eating the banana, he was strapped into the electric chair. The switch was flipped, sparks flew, smoke filled the air … but nothing happened. The man was fine.
At the time, there was a law that if an execution failed it was seen as being divine intervention, so the man was freed.
Miraculously, he was given back his old job as a train driver.
Unsurprisingly, he had not learnt from his old ways and was driving with reckless abandon when, again, the train crashed and this time two people were killed.
At the trial, the man was convicted and sentenced to death. For his final meal, he requested two bananas. After eating them, he was strapped into the electric chair. The switch was flipped, sparks flew, smoke filled the room … but again, the man was unharmed. He was free to go.
They were struggling for train drivers, so the man found his old job was still available.
To the surprise of no one, he crashed another train by being reckless. Three people died this time. The train driver was once again found guilty and sentenced to death.
On the day of his execution he requested his final meal: three bananas.
“You know what? No,” said the executioner. “I’ve had it with you and your silly bananas and walking out of here unharmed. You’re not getting a thing to eat! We’re doing this now!”
It was against protocol, but the train driver was strapped to the electric chair without anything to eat. The switch was pulled. sparks flew, smoke filled the room. When the smoke cleared, the man was revealed to be unharmed. The executioner was speechless.
The train driver looked at the executioner and said, “Oh, the bananas had nothing to do with it. I’m just a bad conductor.”