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Some jokes that made me laugh...

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  • Some jokes that made me laugh...

    A man entered a redneck American town on his trip through the States and he asked the bartender for a job.
    "Whoa, son, you're asking me for a job? We don't hire pussy-ass wimps like you so hit the road!"
    The man said "I'm no wimp, I need a job and I'll do anything to get one..."

    "Alright", the bartender said, "It so happens we do have a test for this kind of thing. First of all you have to bottom a whole glass of our home made malt whiskey. Now I must warn you, our brew has gotten the better of the most experienced drinkers, some were out cold for days.... After that you've got to go kill a bear and finally you gotta please one of our women here, and I can tell ya, that ain't easy OR pretty... Waddaya say?"

    "I'll do it!", said the man confidently, "Where's that wiskey?"

    They give him the drink and he clears it in one gulp. It's unlike anything he's ever tasted, it almost takes his head off!

    Then, they shove a rifle into his hands and direct him towards the nearest forest. The man disappears into the dense wood, staggering to and fro, clutching the old and rusty rifle.

    One hour passes. Then another. Then another...
    Eventually 24 hours pass...
    And then 48...

    Just when the bartender thinks he's a gonner, the man staggers in, cuts all over his body, drenched in blood, clothes torn, rifle still firmly within his grasp.

    Still drunk as fuck he shouts to the bartender:

    "Now where's that woman I'm supposed to shoot?"

    ----------------------
    -Name?
    -Abdul Dalah Sarafi.
    -Sex?
    -Four times a week.
    -No, no, no... male or female?
    -Male, female... sometimes camel.

    ----------------------

    The Pope arrives in heaven, where St. Peter awaites him. St. Peter asks the Pope who he is.
    The Pope: I am the pope.
    St. Peter: Who? There's no such name in my book.
    The Pope: I'm the representative of God on Earth.
    St.Peter: Does God have a representative? He didn't tell me...
    The Pope: But I am the leader of the Catholic Church...
    St. Peter: The Catholic church...Never heard of it... Wait, I'll Check with he boss.
    St. Peter walks away through Heaven's Gate to talk with God.
    St. Peter: There's a dude standing outside who claims he's your representative on earth.
    God: I don't have a representative on earth, not that I know of... Wait, I'll ask Jesus.
    (yells for Jesus)
    Jesus: Yes father, what's up?
    God and St. Peter explain the situation.
    Jesus: Wait, I'll go outside and have a little chat with that fellow.
    Ten minutes pass and Jesus reenters the room laughing out loud.
    After a few minutes St. Peter asks Jesus why he's laughing.
    Jesus: Remember that fishing club I've started some 2000 years ago? It still exists!


  • #2
    Here's another one
    An out of work pianist with Tourette's syndrome is strolling around the Streets and bars of Soho one afternoon.

    Walking down Dean Street he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window "Pianist wanted for evening performances'" "F*cking get in there you c*nt!' he says to himself and goes to the bar.

    "Get the f*cking manager of this pigs' sh*t middle class w*nkhole please, you c*nt', he says to a somewhat startled barman.

    The barman however obliges and his manager comes upstairs. 'Can I help you? sir?' he says.

    'Yes you can, you fat piece of sh*t", says the pianist, "I saw your poxy advert in the c*nting window and I'm here to audition......w*nker.'

    The manager is naturally put off by the man's abrasive manner but his dire need for a top class pianist forces him to agree to an audition. The first tune the Pianist plays is an uplifting jazzy number, not too involving, yet utterly melodic. At the end the thrilled barman cries, 'Wonderful, wonderful. What was that called?'

    'That song, you big nosed tw*t, was called "Excuse me Prime Minister, but I just jizzed in your daughter's eye, and now the c*nt's blind...'

    'Oh' says the manager 'err, can you play me another, something a little less "lively".'

    'F*cking w*nker.' interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad which leaves the manager in tears. The manager through his salty teardrops asks him the title. 'That little number was called "Sometimes when you do a bird up the sh*t box you get cr*p on your bell end.'

    'I see' says the manager, 'Have you got any songs with less offensive titles?'

    'Well there's my jazz number "Do you want me to split your ring piece", or there's the epic "I don't care if you're older my dear, you've still got nice f*cking jugs".

    'Look' says the manager interrupting, 'I think you're a superb pianist but the title of your songs are a little "racy". I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.'

    'F*ck it' says the pianist 'Why not'.

    On his first night everything is going superbly, the crowds are lapping up his repertoire and his silence is being received as modesty. The only thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a gorgeous blonde in a black evening dress with a split up the side revealing the tops of her stockings, and a plunging neckline which boasts a proud and inviting cleavage.

    During the interval the pianist has got such a stonking hard-on that he decides to go to the bog and knock one out. Just as he has shot his muck he hears himself being re-introduced over the tannoy, so he rushes back to the stage and finishes his act.

    After the show he is at the bar relaxing when the blonde approaches him. 'Hi' she says.

    'Hello' he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives.

    She leans over and whispers in his ear, 'Do you know your c*ck is hanging out of your trousers, and sp*nk is dribbling onto your shoes?'

    'Know it?' says the pianist putting his beer on the bar confidently,' I f*cking wrote it!!!

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