Thursday, October 30, 2008

My favorite!

Three mice are sitting in a bar in a pretty rough neighborhood late at night trying to impress each other about how tough they are. The first mouse slams a shot of scotch, and pounds the shot glass to the bar, turns to the second mouse and says: "When I see a mousetrap, I get on it, lie on my back, and set it off with my foot. When the bar comes down, I catch it in my teeth, and then bench press it 100 times."

The second mouse orders up two shots of tequila. He grabs one in each paw, slams the shots, and pounds the glasses to the bar. He turns to the other mice and replies: "Yeah, well when I see rat poison, I collect as much as I can and take it home. In the morning, I grind it up into a powder and put it in my coffee so I get a good buzz going for the rest of the day."

The first mouse and the second mouse then turn to the third mouse. The third mouse lets out a long sigh and says to the first two, "I don't have time for this bullshit. I gotta go home and fuck the cat."

Monday, October 20, 2008

A Falmouth Man!

A Falmouth man picks up a hooker.
'How much do you charge an hour?' he asks.
'£10,' she replies.
He says, 'Do you do Beacon style?'
'No,' she says.
'I pay you £20 to do it Beacon style.'
'No,' she says, not knowing what Beacon style is.
'I pay you £30'
'No,' she says.
'I pay you £40.'
'No,' she says.
So finally he says,
'OK, I pay you £100 to do it Beacon style.'
She thinks, 'Well, I've been in the game for over 10 years. I've had every kind of request from weirdos from every part of Cornwall. How bad could Beacon style be?''
So she agrees and has sex with him.
They do it in every conceivable way and in every possible position. Finally, after several hours,they finish.
Exhausted, the hooker turns to him and says, 'Hey, I was expecting something perverted and disgusting.
But that was good. So what exactly is 'Beacon style'?'
The man replies, 'You send the bill to Social Services.'

Thursday, October 16, 2008

Another one

Involved our family pet - Sonny dog, a large and quite stupid boxer who enjoyed the run of our house, that is until I opened my little brother's bedroom door one day to find him (Sonny, not my brother) feasting on a soiled nappy out of the bin. He looked guilty for a second, but then more pleased with himself and started shambling over wagging his tail, whereby I noticed that he had bits of nappy plastic stuck between his teeth - cue a swift exit. He had to live outside after that, which seemed to suit him as he spent the rest of his days rolling in the mucked out hay from the nearby stables and gorging himself on manure. Class.

Come to think of it, in his elderly years he was exiled to my dad's house where he used to lie in front of the gas fire and brew huge squeaking farts that stank the whole room out with the smell of fetid dog doings.