Mars Bar Bribe

THE only way to pull off a Sunday afternoon ‘quick bout of love making’ with their eight-year-old son in the apartment was to send him out on the balcony with a Mars Bar and tell him to report on all the street activities.

He began his commentary as his parents put their plan into operation:

“There’s a car being towed from the parking lot.

An ambulance just drove by. Looks like the Anderson’s have company. 

Matt’s riding a new bike.

Looks like the Sanders are moving.

Jason is on his skate board.

The Coopers are having a root.”

Startled, his mum and dad shot up in bed! Dad cautiously called out,
 “How do you know that?”

“Jimmy Cooper is standing on his balcony with a Mars Bar.”

Scotsman’s Big Black Beard

A SCOTSMAN is sitting in a bar in Cuba and is minding his business when a man with a large black beard walks in. The man goes to the bar and orders a shot of whiskey. The bartender serves him, the man drinks the whiskey then starts walking out the door.

The bartender says, “Hey, aren’t you going to pay for that?”

The man says, “Excuse me, Castro’s Army.”

The bartender says, “All right then,” and the man leaves.

A few minutes later another man with a large black beard walks in. The man goes to the bar and orders a shot of whiskey. The bartender serves him, the man drinks the whiskey then starts walking out the door.

The bartender says, “Hey, aren’t you going to pay for that?”

The man says, “Excuse me, Castro’s Army.”

The bartender says, “All right then,” and the man leaves.

The Scotsman gets an idea and walks up to the bar and orders a shot of whiskey. He drinks the whiskey then starts walking out the door.

The bartender says, “Hey, aren’t you going to pay for that?”

The Scotsman says, “Excuse me, Castro’s Army.”

The bartender says, “Hey, where is your big black beard?”

The Scotsman lifts his kilt and says, “Secret Service!”

Another Great Day

BEEN to the gym, then had a nice shower.

I’ve just picked up a bottle of home-brew from one of the neighbours for this afternoon.

I’ve got a few joints rolled up for the XBox tournament with the lads.

After that I’ll muck around online with some porn and gambling sites.

Then to finish off the perfect day, it’s a nice blow job before I go to bed.

Fuck I love prison!

Signs, Signs, Everywhere Signs

Sign over a gynecologist’s office: “Dr Jones at your cervix.”

On a septic tank truck: Yesterday’s Meals on Wheels

On a plumber’s truck: “Don’t sleep with a drip. Call your plumber.”

At a tyre store: “Invite us to your next blowout.”

On an electrician’s truck: “Let us remove your shorts.”

In a non-smoking area: “If we see smoke, we will assume you are on fire and take appropriate action.”

On a maternity room door: “Push. Push. Push.”

At an optometrist’s office: “If you don’t see what you’re looking for, you’ve come to the right place.”

On a fence: “Salesmen welcome! Dog food is expensive!”

At a car dealership: “The best way to get back on your feet — miss a car payment.”

Outside a car exhaust store: “No appointment necessary. We hear you coming.”

In a vets waiting room: “Be back in 5 minutes. Sit! Stay!”

In the front yard of a funeral home: “Drive carefully. We’ll wait.”

And don’t forget the sign at the radiator shop: “Best place in
 town to take a leak.”

Seeing Green Spots

A young woman goes to her doctor’s office, afraid of a strange development — a green spot on the inside of each thigh.

“They won’t wash off, they won’t scrape off and they seem to be getting worse,” she tells the doctor.

The doctor assures her he’ll get to the bottom of the problem, and tells her not to worry until the tests come back.

A few days later, the woman’s phone rings. Much to her relief, it’s the doctor. She immediately begs to know what’s causing the spots.

The doctor says, “You’re perfectly healthy, there’s no problem, but I’m wondering, is your boyfriend a Harley guy?”

The woman stammers, “Why, yes, but how did you know?”

“Tell him his earrings aren’t real gold.”

Red-Headed Babies

After their baby was born, the father went to see the obstetrician. “Doctor,” the man said, “I don’t mind telling you that I’m a little upset because my daughter has red hair. She can’t possibly be mine!”

“Nonsense,” the doctor said. “Even though you and your wife both have black hair, one of your ancestors may have contributed red hair to the gene pool.”

“It isn’t possible,” the man insisted. “Our families on both sides have had jet-black hair for generations.”

“Well, let me ask you this. How often do you have sex?”

The man seemed a bit ashamed. “I’ve been working very hard for the past year. We only made love once or twice every few months.”

“There you have it!” The doctor said confidently. ”It’s rust.”

The Phone Call

Ring, ring…


“Hi honey. This is Daddy. Is Mommy near the phone?”

“No, Daddy. She’s upstairs in the bedroom with Uncle Paul.”

Brief Pause.

Daddy says, “But honey, you haven’t got an Uncle Paul.”

“Oh yes I do, and he’s upstairs in the room with Mommy right now.”

Brief Pause.

“Uh, okay then, this is what I want you to do. Put the phone down on the table, run upstairs and knock on the bedroom door and shout to Mommy that Daddy’s car just pulled into the driveway.”

“Okay, Daddy, just a minute.”

A few minutes later the little girl comes back to the phone. “I did it, Daddy.”

“And what happened, honey?”

Well, Mommy got all scared, jumped out of bed with no clothes on and ran around screaming, then she tripped over the rug, hit her head on the dresser, and now she isn’t moving at all.”

“Oh my God! What about your Uncle Paul?”

“He jumped out of the bed with no clothes on too. He was all scared and he jumped out of the back window and into the swimming pool. But I guess he didn’t know that you took out the water last week to clean it. He hit the bottom of the pool and I think he’s dead.”

Long Pause.

Daddy says, “Swimming pool? I think I have the wrong number. Is this 486-5731?”

The Perfect Man

A MAN walks out to the street and catches a taxi just going by. He gets into the taxi, and the cabbie says, “Perfect timing. You’re just like Frank.”

Passenger: “Who?’”

Cabbie: “Frank Feldman. He’s a guy who did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a cab, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time.”

Passenger: “There are always a few clouds over everybody.”

Cabbie: “Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific athlete. He could have won the Grand-Slam at tennis. He could golf with the pros. He sang like an opera baritone and danced like a Broadway star, and you should have heard him play the piano. He was an amazing guy.”

Passenger: “Sounds like he was something really special.”

Cabbie: “There’s more. He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody’s birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could fix anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman, could do everything right.”

Passenger: “Wow, some guy then.”

Cabbie: “He always knew the quickest way to go in traffic and avoid traffic jams. Not like me, I always seem to get stuck in them. But Frank, he never made a mistake, and he really knew how to treat a woman and make her feel good. He would never answer her back even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too. He was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman.”

Passenger: “An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?”

Cabbie: “Well, I never actually met Frank, he died and I married his fucking wife.”

Guess Your Age

Four old naughty grannies were sitting at a table in a retirement complex when old grandpa walked in. One old grandmother cried out to him, “We bet we can tell you exactly how old you are.”

The old man said, “You can not really guess exactly my age, you bunch of old fools.”

The old grandmother said, “We certainly can do it! Drop down your pants and underpants and we’ll tell you exactly your age.”

A bit dismayed, but determined to prove that they could not, he dropped his pants and underpants down.

The grannies told him to turn around a few times, and than made him jump up and down several times. Then they shouted in unison, “You’re 87 years old!”

With the pants around his ankles, the old man asked, “How in Hell did you guess that?”

Roaring with laughter, tears on their cheeks, the old ladies shouted in unison, “Yesterday… we were at your birthday party!”

Fear ‘n’ Loathin’ in the Supermarket

Y’KNOW WHAT I like best about diaries? They’re private. You can write anything you like and nobody will ever know. I can write anything about me girlfriend, me job or me mates, and then I hide me diary under me laundry cos that’s the safest place in me room (trust me — no-one’s gunna wanna touch that!) And I hide it cos of me one great fear: Sheree. 

Talking about fears, I’ll tell ya a secret: me other great fear — only don’t go blabbing cos nobody ever admits to fear — is that I’m scared shitless of supermarkets. Yep. And why I’m telling youse this is cos I’m standing here right now in front of the toothpaste aisle! Straight up, there’s a toothpaste aisle! A whole fukking aisle with toothpaste on it. There’s so much toothpaste, I think it would take up three walls of me bedroom and just leave room fer the window! It’s just toothpaste, fer Chrissakes. How many different ways can there be to make toothpaste? 

When I was an ankle-biter, there was hardly any toothpaste. We had Macleans or Colgate, spearmint or peppermint, small or large; some powder stuff fer smokers; and sweet stuff fer us kids that me mum didn’t get cos I used to eat it. Instead she got me the one I didn’t like and so I didn’t use it and I got holes in me teeth instead. 

So I’m looking at the different types of toothpaste and a nagging fear hits me: What if I gets the wrong one? 

You might say it’s only toothpaste, but if they was all the same, why’s there so many different ones? D’you remember that bloke on the telly with the car engine oil? “Oils ain’t Oils,” he said.

I’m standing here and I’m reading the labels:

Sensitive. Yeah, right! Right poofta more like! 

Or with bicarb of soda. Have you tasted bicarb? It’s shit! So that one’s out. 

Pearly Whites. Too late, mate. 

Extra fluoride. Hmmmmm… maybe? 

Stripey! Now that’s more like it! 

On Special. Put the stripey one back and pick up that one. 

Stain Removal. Yeah, I really could do with that. Get that one too. 

Stain removal with bleach. What am I, a toilet? 

Oooooh look! One with Noddy on it. I remember that one. That’s the nice tasting one. I haven’t had that in years. I’ll have that one too! 

I haven’t got a basket so I’m walking down the aisle with three toothpastes in me hands when I remember we’re outta milk. So I go and get 2 litres. 

Back on the way to the checkout, I grab a loaf, which reminds me to get toilet paper. So I go back to the toothpaste aisle for the toilet paper cos they’ll put the bathroom things together, won’t they? Well, two trips up and down and I can’t find the stuff so I ask (yeh, I did!) and the girl sez: aisle 12, opposite the frozen foods. 

Yeah? What lame-brain thought of that? Get your frozen peas and arse wipe at the same time. 

See if I was designing supermarkets, I’d do it alphabetically. So if yer looking for peas, they’d be in the middle, more or less, and if yer looking fer toilet rolls, they’d be towards the end. Generally, each supermarket has about 12 aisles, so that’s about half an aisle for each letter. Easy! And some people think I’m not that smart. That’d show them. Maybe I can patent it and sell them my idea! Yeh! 

So I’m smiling to meself, sorta thinking about having some peas and having a pee on the way to aisle 12, and I start thinking about the Noddy toothpaste. I wonder if it tastes the same? No good — I gotta find out. 

I got the 2 litres under me arm and the bread dangling from me middle finger, and I shove the other toothpastes up me armpit, and I open the Noddy toothpaste. Not as easy as it sounds! Somebody has anticipated that some other body (like me) might want to sample Noddy toothpaste and made it as hard as possible to get into, sealing the whole bloody box in plastic wrap. I’ve just about got me thumb under the lid of the box and it’s stuck down with a clear glue and me thumb’s stuck and when I pull me thumb out, I get a paper cut right across the thumb crease! 

Yow! It hurts like buggery! Ram me thumb in me mouth and the milk under me arm hits the ground, the top flies off, the milk goes everywhere, and I drop the bread in it, and everyone looks at me like I’m some kinda idiot. 

Whaaaaat?! That coulda happened to anyone! 

See, that’s the real reason we have girlfriends. I tell Sheree to get me sumpthin’ and she gets it in three colours and they all fit (except the puppy-print board-shorts she got me once and I don’t know if they fit cos they never got round me bum to find out). 

Sheree loves shopping. Y’know she even goes on shopping trips where she doesn’t buy anything just so she knows where to look if she does wanta buy something one day. 

I said to her, “You’ve just spent five hours shoppin’ an’ all you’ve got is a hairbrush.”

And she sez, “I’ve been lookin’ for a good hairbrush fer ages. This one gets the tangles out. 

And I go, “They ALL get the tangles out, that’s what they do!”

Aaar, we’re right back to the toothpaste again — they all get yer teeth clean. 

I step back while some spotty kid mops up the milk and another one offers to get me a fresh one. I just stand there licking me Noddy toothpaste, and yep! It’s still good. 

The kid looks up at me and I’m foaming at the mouth, and he nods and runs and I don’t care. I got the cleanest teeth in the supermarket! Heh, heh, heh! 

article by Barry Dagman; illustration by Dr Jay Harley

Irish Speedos

Paddy, who was on holiday from Ireland on Bondi Beach Australia, couldn’t seem to make it with any of the girls so he asked the local lifeguard for some advice.

“Mate, it’s obvious,” says the lifeguard. “You’re wearing them old baggy swimming trunks that make ya look like an old geezer. They’re years outta style. You’re best bet is to grab yourself a pair of Speedos about two sizes too small and drop a fist-sized potato down inside ‘em. I’m tellin’ ya, mate, you’ll have all the babes ya want!”

The following weekend, Paddy hits the beach with his spanking new tight Speedos and his fist-sized potato. Everybody on the beach was disgusted as he walked by, covering their faces, turning away, and laughing, looking sick.

So Paddy went back to the lifeguard and asked him, “What’s wrong now?”

“Bloody Hell,” said the lifeguard. “Maaaaate. The potato goes in the front!”

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