The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes (71 page)

I lost my virginity to a retard. I always wanted the first to be special.

How do you know when a date is going badly?

When you spike your own drink with Rohypnol.

It’s a beautiful sunny day so Tom decides to go fishing at his usual spot at a local river. When he gets there he is surprised to see an unfamiliar face fishing on the opposite side of the river. When Tom leaves that evening, the stranger is still sitting there. Tom comes back early the next morning, and the stranger is there again and is still fishing when Tom leaves that evening.

This routine continues for a few days until Tom can’t contain his curiosity any more. He approaches the stranger and says, “Excuse me, I can’t help noticing that every morning when I arrive you are sitting there, and you’re still there when I leave every night. Don’t you have a home to go to?”

“I’m on my honeymoon,” replies the stranger. “My wife is in that log cabin up there on the hillside.”

“Shouldn’t you be up there with her then?” says Tom.

“I can’t touch her. She’s got gonorrhoea,” says the stranger.

“What about doing it in her tradesman’s entrance?” jokes Tom.

“I can’t. She suffers from chronic diarrhoea.”

“Well, it’s still your honeymoon, couldn’t you get her to give you a blow job?”

“Nope. She’s got pyorrhoea.”

“That’s terrible,” says Tom. “Why did you marry her then?”

“For the maggots.”

A youth walking along the pier notices an old man with his shoes off, trouser legs rolled up, legs dangling in the sea and fishing with an imaginary rod.

Puzzled, the youth asks, “What are you doing?”

The old man replies, “Fishing for cunts.”

“Sounds good. Can I join you?” replied the youth.

“No problem, son.”

The young man sits down and casts an imaginary rod out, and then says, “So, how many cunts have you caught today?”

The old man replies, “You’re the third this morning.”

Two men are sitting by a pond, fishing and enjoying a warm summer’s day.

A swimmer passes by and waves to the men. Suddenly, the swimmer sinks and fails to re-surface. After about ten minutes, the first angler casually asks the other if he saw what happened.

“Aye.”

“Don’t you think we ought to look for him?” says the first.

“Aye.”

So they put down their fishing rods, go in with their waders and drag out a lifeless body.

“I suppose we’d better give him the kiss of life,” says the second.

He gets down and opens the mouth of the victim.

“Fuck me, I’m not breathing into that, his breath smells fucking revolting.”

“Don’t be so fucking sensitive,” says the other angler, “it’s life or death, you cunt.”

The other angler attempts to give him the kiss of life, but is also repelled by the bad breath.

A third man, who had been watching from nearby, says, “I think you might have got the wrong man!”

“Say again?” ask the anglers.

“Only that one’s still got his ice skates on, see?”

A couple had been happily married for years. The only friction in their otherwise idyllic marriage arose from the husband’s habit of farting loudly every morning when he awoke. The noise would disturb his wife and the smell would make her eyes water and make her gasp for air. Every morning she would plead with him to stop farting because it was making her sick. He told her he couldn’t stop it; after all, it was perfectly natural. She told him to see a doctor; she was concerned that one day he would blow his guts out. The years when by, however, and he continued to let rip.

One Christmas morning she had had enough. As she was preparing the turkey for dinner and her husband lay upstairs sound asleep, she looked at the bowl where she had put the turkey innards and neck, gizzard, liver and all the spare parts, and a malicious thought came to her. She took the bowl and went upstairs where her husband was sound asleep. Gently pulling back the bed covers, she pulled back the waistband of his Y-fronts and emptied the bowl of turkey guts into his underpants. A while later she heard her husband wake and let rip the usual blast, followed by a blood-curdling scream and the sound of frantic footsteps as he hurtled into the bathroom. The wife could hardly control herself as she rolled on the foor laughing, tears in her eyes! After years of torture she reckoned she had her revenge. About half an hour later, her husband came downstairs in his bloodstained underpants, with a look of horror on his face. She bit her lip and asked him what was the matter.

“You were right,” he said. “All these years you have warned me and I didn’t listen to you.”

“What do you mean?” asked the wife.

“Well, you always told me that one day I would end up farting my guts out and today it finally happened. But, by the grace of God, some Vaseline and these two fngers, I think I got most of them back in.”

I went to the doctor and asked if he could give me something for persistent wind. He gave me a kite.