A football fan was at a match, but was in a terrible position,
stuck behind the goal with all the action at the far end of the
pitch.
He noticed an empty seat halfway along the pitch, offering a superb
view of the game.
He made his way along towards the empty seat, and saw an old man
sitting next to it.
"Is this seat free?" enquired the fan.
"Unfortunately it is," replied the old man. "It was my wife's seat.
We met at this ground at the end of World War Two, and we've been
season ticket holders of this club ever since. Sadly, she's now
passed away, and her seat is empty."
"But this is a great seat," said the fan. "Surely you must have
friends or relatives who would love to see the match."
"I have," replied the old man, "But they're all at the funeral."
A couple were in bed one afternoon when they heard a car pull up
outside the house.
"Oh no!" said the woman, "It's my husband. You'd better hide."
So the man grabbed his clothes and dived into the wardrobe, while the
woman left the room.
Suddenly the man heard a little voice: "It's awfully dark in here," it
said.
"Who's that?" hissed the man.
"I saw what you were doing with my mum," said the eight-year-old kid,
"And I'm going to tell my dad."
"You little git," said the man. "How much do you want to keep quiet?"
"Twenty quid," replied the kid.
So he had no option but to pay the kid, and managed to sneak out
unnoticed.
Later, the woman noticed her kid playing with the twenty pound note.
"Where did you get that," she asked.
"I found it," replied the kid.
"No, you didn't," said his mother, "You stole it. Get yourself down
to the church and confess."
So the kid wandered down to the church, and entered the confessional
box.
"It's awfully dark in here," said the kid.
"Oh no!" groaned the priest, "Not you again!"
A vicar was chatting to one of his old friends.
"I love this village," said the vicar. "I know everyone, and I thought
I could trust them. But that was until one of them stole my bicycle."
"Surely there must be some mistake," said his friend, "I know
everyone in the village as well, and I'm sure nobody would have stolen
your bike."
"Well, I keep my bike in my front porch, and this morning it wasn't
there." said the vicar.
"There's one sure way of detecting the culprit", said his friend.
"You know that the whole village attends your Sunday morning service.
Prepare a hum-dinger of a sermon using the Ten Commandments as the
theme. When you get to 'Thou shalt not steal', have a good look around
the congregation. The guilty person will blush and give himself away."
"Great idea," said the vicar. "I'll start work on the sermon straight
away."
On Sunday afternoon, the vicar's friend saw the vicar on his bike.
"I'm glad to see you've got your bike back," said the friend. "I take
it you found the culprit?"
"Oh, no, it wasn't any of my parishoners," replied the vicar. "I got
as far as 'Thou shalt not commit adultery' and then remembered where I
left it!"
The Queen was visiting a military hospital, and insisted on
chatting to some of the patients.
She asked the first patient, "What's wrong with you, Private?"
"Haemorrhoids, Ma'am," replied the soldier.
"And what treatment are you receiving?" enquired the Queen.
"Well, Ma'am, every morning the medical staff treat the affected part
with Dettol and a wire brush." replied the soldier.
"Is it painful?" asked the Queen.
"Oh, yes, Ma'am, very painful," replied the patient.
"And what's your ambition?" asked the Queen.
"To get shot of this awful affliction and rejoin my unit." replied
the soldier.
"Jolly good," said the Queen, "General, give this man a medal."
The Queen moved on to the next patient and asked him, "What's wrong
with you, soldier?"
"It's a social disease, Ma'am," replied the soldier. "I've just returned from
the Far East."
"Occupational hazard, I suppose," said the Queen. "And what treatment
are you receiving?"
"Well, Ma'am, every morning the medical staff treat the affected part
with Dettol and a wire brush." replied the soldier.
"Is it painful?" asked the Queen.
"Oh, yes, Ma'am, very painful," replied the patient.
"And what's your ambition?" asked the Queen.
"To get shot of this awful affliction and rejoin my unit." replied
the soldier.
"Jolly good," said the Queen, "General, give this man a medal."
The Queen moved on to the next patient and asked him, "What's wrong
with you, soldier?"
"Laryngitis, Ma'am," croaked the soldier.
"And what treatment are you receiving?" enquired the Queen.
"Well, Ma'am, every morning the medical staff treat the affected part
with Dettol and a wire brush." replied the soldier.
"Is it painful?" asked the Queen.
"Oh, yes, Ma'am, very painful," replied the patient.
"And what's your ambition?" asked the Queen.
"To get treated before these dirty gits," replied the soldier.
Two elderly nuns were travelling along a motorway in Northern
Ireland, when their Mini suddenly spluttered to a halt.
They realised that they had run out of petrol, and that the nearest
filling station was three miles away.
They had no petrol in the boot, and no empty petrol can.
So they decided that one of them should walk on to the filling station
while the other stayed with the car.
Eventually, after a long walk, the nun arrived at the filling station
and asked for a gallon of petrol, and the loan of a petrol can.
The proprietor said that he had no petrol can to lend her, but went
into the living quarters to see what he could find.
After a few minutes, he reappeared carrying a chamber pot, which he
assured her was clean, and would hold half a gallon
of petrol, which would be enough to get them to the garage so they
could fill up.
So she walked back to the car, taking care not to spill any petrol.
She undid the filler cap on the car, and inserted a funnel.
As she was about to pour the petrol in, a large car drew up beside her,
and the window was wound down.
Paisley stuck his head out and roared "I detest your religion, but I
admire your faith!"
Fitzpatrick and Murphy had been out drinking all night, and at
two o'clock in the morning, found it impossible
to find a taxi to get home.
As they were walking past the bus garage, they decided to steal a bus
to get home.
Fitzpatrick broke into the garage while Murphy kept watch outside.
There was the sound of engines revving, and the odd crash and crunching
of gears.
After about twenty minutes, Fitzpatrick came out of the garage
empty-handed.
"Where's the bus, then?" asked Murphy.
"I couldn't find a number 68," replied Fitzpatrick.
"Why didn't you get a number 74?" asked Murphy. "We could have taken
it to the hospital and walk the rest of the way home."
Murphy and O'Hagan were on holiday in Rome.
As they sat in a bar one day, Murphy observed, "We've been here for
almost two weeks now. We fly back to Dublin tomorrow. All we've done
is sit around in bars. Now we can hardly go home and tell them we
haven't been to the Vatican, can we?"
"You're right," concurred O'Hagan. "We'd better get there this afternoon."
So they went to the Vatican, and in a small side street, they
discovered a figure dressed in white, lying face down in the gutter.
They rolled the old man over, and immediately recognised him as the
Pope. And he was dead.
They raised the alarm, and within minutes they found themselves in a
large room, surrounded by cardinals and archbishops.
"We understand that you two found the Holy Father," said one of the
cardinals. "There are various procedures that must be carried out
before we let the world press know of his demise. This could take
several days. For reasons of secrecy, we cannot permit you to leave."
"But we're due to fly back to Dublin tomorrow morning," protested Murphy.
"Are you good practising Catholics?" asked the cardinal.
"Of course," replied Murphy.
"In that case, you can go," said the cardinal. "But, be warned.
If you utter one word about the Holy Father being dead before
you see it on television and in the papers, you will be
excommunicated. That means you will spend eternity in Hell.
Do you understand?"
"Don't worry, your Eminence," said Murphy, "We won't say a word, I promise."
They were allowed on their way, and on the flight to Dublin the
following morning, O'Hagan said to Murphy, "I've been thinking. We can
make a lot of money from what we know."
"Oh no you don't!" said Murphy, "You heard what that cardinal said.
I'm not telling the newspapers or television anything about it.
I'm not selling my soul for a few measly quid."
"We're not going near the TV or the press," said O'Hagan "And we're
not going to tell anyone that the Pope's dead. Just raise as much
cash as you can. Mortgage your house, and take out the biggest loan
you can. Then go to a few bookmakers and see what odds they'll give
on the Pope dying in the next few days. Put your money on with the one
that gives the best odds. We already know the result, so we can't
lose. And because we won't have told anyone the Pope's dead, we
won't be excommunicated."
"That's brilliant," said Murphy. "We'll be millionaires."
A week later, the news of the Pope's death was all over the newspapers
and on TV. O'Hagan was driving through Dublin in his new Rolls Royce
when he spotted Murphy sitting begging in the street.
"You seem to have done all right for yourself," said Murphy. "Big new
car and all."
"Yes, of course," said O'Hagan. "I took out several loans, mortgaged
the house, and managed to raise a quarter of a million punt. William
Hill's offered me odds of forty to one. So I made ten million quid.
But what on earth happened to you?"
"What do you think happened to me?" said Murphy. "I lost! I mortgaged
the house, took out several loans, and managed to raise three hundred
thousand. Now I'm broke, and I've lost my house, my wife and my kids."
"But how could you lose?" enquired O'Hagan, incredulously. "It was
a cert."
"I know," said Murphy, "But I felt so lucky, I thought I'd have a
double on the Archbishop of Canterbury."
Three trainee CIA agents had completed their training, and were
about to undergo the final and most difficult exercise, which would
determine whether they had what it takes to be an effective CIA
agent.
The examiner called the first candidate into the office.
"Your girlfriend is sitting in the room through that door," said the
examiner. "There is a loaded pistol on my desk. Take it. You have
thirty seconds to kill her. Go."
The trainee took the pistol, and went into the room where his
girlfriend was. Ten seconds later, he returned, holding his
girlfriend's hand, and replaced the gun on the desk.
"I can't do it," he said. "I love this girl, and can't harm her."
The examiner told him that he had failed the test, and that his CIA
career was over. The examiner then called the second candidate into
the office.
"Your fiancee is sitting in the room through that door," said the
examiner. "There is a loaded pistol on my desk. Take it. You have
thirty seconds to kill her. Go."
The student took the weapon, and went into the room where his
fiancee was. Ten seconds later, he returned, holding his
fiancee by the hand, and replaced the gun on the desk.
"I can't do it," he said. "I love this girl, and I want to marry her.
I can't harm her."
The examiner told him that he had failed the test, and that he had no
future in the CIA. The examiner then called the third candidate into
the office.
"I understand you've been married for ten years," said the examiner.
"Your wife is sitting in the room through that door. There is a loaded
pistol on my desk. Take it. You have thirty seconds to kill her. Go."
The man took the gun, and went into the room where his wife was.
There was an awful din, with gunshots, crashing and screaming. Twenty
seconds later, he returned, sweating and out of breath.
"What was all that noise?" asked the examiner.
"Some idiot loaded the gun with blanks," the trainee replied. "I had
to beat her to death with the chair."
An old lady was in a compartment on a long-distance train journey.
Sitting opposite her was a Millwall-supporting skinhead, who was in
the process of noshing a huge bag of prawns. He was ripping the heads
and shells off, throwing them out of the window, and chomping the
prawns with his mouth open, making a revolting noise.
The old lady said to him, "Excuse me, do you have to do that? You're
making me feel quite ill."
"Get lost, you old bag," said the uncouth lout. "I've paid for my
ticket, and I'll do what I like."
So the old lady had to put up with it. Eventually, the skinhead had
finished eating, so he screwed up the bag and threw it out of the
window. He then sprawled out over the seat and started to go to sleep.
Meanwhile, the old lady reached into her bag, produced her knitting,
and proceeded to knit.
"Oi, you're driving me mad, clicking away with those needles," said the
skinhead. "So cut it out. I'm trying to get some kip."
"I've also paid for my ticket," said the old lady, "So I'll do as I
please."
"Oh, yeah?" growled the skinhead, "We'll see about that."
So he grabbed her knitting and threw it out of the window. The old
lady then pulled the communication cord, and the train stopped.
The yobbo laughed and said "You're in for it now. You'll get fined
two hundred quid for stopping the train."
"And when the police smell your fingers, you'll get ten years!"
grinned the old lady.
An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman were in a pub, talking about their sons.
"My son was born on St George's Day," commented the Englishman. "So we obviously decided to call him George."
"That's a real coincidence," remarked the Scot. "My son was born on St Andrew's Day, so obviously we decided to call him Andrew."
"That's incredible, what a coincidence," said the Irishman. "Exactly the same thing happened with my son Pancake."
There's an Englishman, Irishman and Scotsman all talking about their teenage daughters.
The Englishman says " I was cleaning my daughter's room the other day and I found a packet of cigarettes. I was really shocked as I didn't even know she smoked."
The Scotsman says " That's nothing. I was cleaning my daughter's room the other day when I came across a half full bottle of vodka. I was really shocked as I didn't even know she drank."
With that the Irishman says " Both of you have got nothing to worry about. I was cleaning my daughter's room the other day when I found a packet of condoms. I was really shocked. I didn't even know she had a cock."
Ireland's worst air disaster occurred today when a small 2-seater Cessna plane crashed into a cemetery in central Waterford. Irish search and rescue workers have recovered 826 bodies so far and expect that number to climb as digging continues into the night.
A Texan, a Russian and a New Yorker go into a restaurant in London.
The waiter says, "Excuse me, but if you want the steak you may not get one as there is a shortage."
The Texan said, "What's a shortage?"
The Russian said, "What's a steak?"
The New Yorker said, "What's 'excuse me'?"
A pregnant Irish woman from Dublin gets in a car accident and falls into a deep coma. Asleep for nearly 6 months, when she wakes up she sees that she is no longer pregnant and frantically asks the doctor about her baby.
The doctor replies, "Ma'am, you had twins! A boy and a girl. Your brother from Cork came in and named them."
The woman thinks to herself, "Oh no, not my brother... he's an idiot!"
She asks the doctor, "Well, what's the girl's name?"
The doctor replies "Denise."
"Wow, that's not a bad name, I like it!" says the woman. "What's the boy's name?"
"Denephew." says the doctor.
After digging to a depth of 10 metres last year, Russian scientists found traces of copper wiring dating back 1000 years, and came to the conclusion that their ancestors already had a telephone network one thousand years ago.
So as not to be outdone, in the weeks that followed, American scientists dug 20 metres, and headlines in the US newspapers read:
"US scientists have found traces of 2000 year old optical fibres, and have concluded that their ancestors already had advanced high-tech digital telephone 1000 years earlier than the Russians."
One week later, the Irish press reported the following: "After digging as deep as 50 metres, Irish scientists have found absolutely nothing. They have concluded that 5000 years ago, their ancestors were already using mobile phones."
An Essex girl goes into a shoe shop to buy a pair of boots. She walks around the shop looking for a pair she both likes and can afford. After a while, she sets her heart on a pretty little pair in the corner and asks the shop assistant if she could try a pair on. The shop assistant, abiding to his customer's wishes, brings back a pair of the boots in the young girl's shoe size. He hands them over to her and is a bit puzzled when she takes off her shoes and doesn't try the boots on.
Not being able to withhold his curiosity, he asks the young lady if anything is wrong, to which the girl replies,
"Well, actually, I was wondering how you can tell which foot goes into which boot."
Surprised, the shop assistant answers:
"Actually, the manufacturers of the boots have anticipated this problem and have put an 'L' on the bottom of one of the boots and an 'R' at the bottom of the other. The boot with the 'L' is the one that should be worn on your left foot and the boot with the 'R' is the one that should be worn on your right foot."
"Ahhh!" says the girl. "That must explain it then: I've always wondered what the 'C&A' stood for on my knickers."
An old lady went into the newspaper office and asked if she could place an obituary notice. The clerk gave her a form on which to write the notice, the cost being one pound per word. The old lady completed the form and handed it back to the clerk, with only two words in the notice: "Johnson dead".
She explained that it was all she could afford.
The clerk noticed the obvious distress on the old lady's face, and felt sorry for her, then went into the editor's office.
A moment later the clerk returned and told the old lady that the editor would allow her another three words, free of charge.
So the old lady completed another form with the message: "Johnson dead. Suit for sale".
This is supposedly an authentic letter sent to Dear Deirdre of the Sun Newspaper:
I am a sailor in the merchant navy. My parents live in South London and one of my sisters, who lives in Brixton, is married
to a guy from Liverpool. My Father and Mother have recently been arrested for growing and selling marijuana and are currently dependent on my two sisters, who are prostitutes. I have two brothers. One is currently serving a non-parole life sentence in Wormwood Scrubs for the rape and murder of a teenage boy in 1994. The other is being held in Wandsworth on remand on charges of incest with his three children. I have recently become engaged to marry a former Thai prostitute who indeed is still a part time "working girl" in a brothel. However, her time there is limited as she has recently been infected with a sexually-transmitted disease. We intend to marry as soon as possible and are currently looking into the possibility of opening our own brothel with my fianc�e utilising her knowledge of the industry working as the manager. I am hoping my two sisters would be interested in joining our team. Although I would prefer them not to prostitute themselves, it would at least get them off the streets and hopefully off the heroin.
My problem is this:
I love my fiancee and look forward to bringing her into the family and of course I want to be totally honest with her.
Should I tell her my brother-in-law is a Scouser ?
One fine day in Ireland, a guy is out golfing and gets up to the 16th hole. He tees up and cranks one. Unfortunately, it goes into the woods on the side of the fairway. He goes looking for his ball and comes across this little guy with this huge bump on his head and the golf ball lying right beside him.
"Goodness," says the golfer then proceeds to revive the poor little guy.
Upon awakening, the little guy says, "Well, you caught me fair and square. I am a leprechaun. I will grant you three wishes."
The man says "I can't take anything from you, I'm just glad I didn't hurt you too badly," and walks away.
Watching the golfer depart, the leprechaun says "Well, he was a nice enough guy, and he did catch me, so I have to do something for him. I'll give him the three things that I would want. I'll give him unlimited money, a great golf game, and a great sex life."
Well, a year goes past (as they often do in jokes like this), and the same golfer is out golfing on the same course at the 16th hole. He gets up and hits one into the same woods and goes off looking for his ball. When he finds the ball he sees the same little guy and asks how he is doing.
The leprechaun says, "I'm fine, and might I ask how your golf game is?"
The golfer says, "It's great! I hit under par every time."
"I did that for you," responds the leprechaun, "And might I ask how your money is holding out?"
"Well, now that you mention it, every time I put my hand in my pocket, I pull out a fifty pound note" he replies.
The leprechaun smiles and says, "I did that for you too. And might I ask how your sex life is?"
Now the golfer looks at him a little shyly and says, "Well, maybe once or twice a week."
Floored, the leprechaun stammers, "Once or twice a week? Is that all?"
The golfer looks at him sheepishly and says, "Well, that's not too bad for a Catholic priest in a small parish."
Martin had been a dealer at the London Stock Exchange for twenty years, and was finally starting to feel the pressure.
As he had made a lot of money, he decided that he would take some time off from work, and get away from the rat race.
He rented a croft in the Scottish highlands, miles from anywhere. He moved in enough supplies, books, videos and CDs to last several months, so he didn't have to see anyone unless he wanted to.
Martin was having a great time, and relished the tranquility and solitude, when, after about four months, there was a knock on the door.
On opening the door he was greeted by a veritable giant of a man, a huge Highlander with a red beard and a kilt.
"I'm Angus," said the Scotsman. "I'm your neighbour from the other side of the glen. I'm having a wee party at my place tonight, and I'd like you to come along."
"That's very kind of you," said Martin. "You're the first person I've seen in months, and it's about time I rejoined the human race. Thanks, I'd love to come."
"I must warn you though, there'll be some serious drinking going on," said Angus.
"I used to work for the Stock Exchange," said Martin. "We work hard and we play hard. I can drink with the best of them."
"There'll be a fair bit of fighting as well," said Angus.
"No problem," said Martin. "I can take care of myself."
"And at my parties, there's always lots of wild sex," said Angus.
"This just gets better and better," said Martin. "What time do you want me there?"
"Och, suit yourself," replied Angus, "There'll only be the two of us."