Mondays Joke

Fancy something that gives you a giggle?
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If I Was A Bird
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby If I Was A Bird » Mon Jun 30 2014, 13:15

A new priest, born and raised in Texas, comes to serve in a city parish and is nervous about hearing confessions, so he asks the older priest to sit in on his sessions.

The new priest hears a couple of confessions, then the old priest asks him to step out of the confessional for a few suggestions.

The old priest suggests, "Cross your arms over your chest, and rub your chin with one hand and try saying things like 'yes, I see,' and 'yes, go on,' and 'I understand.'

The new priest crosses his arms, rubs his chin with one hand and repeats all the suggested remarks to the old priest.

The old priest says, "Now, don't you think that's a little better than slapping your knee and saying, "No s#!t, what happened next?"
"I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart" - annon heli pilot....
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby truthinbeer » Sun Jul 6 2014, 12:45

A hungry bloke walks into a seedy cafe in Glasgow.
He sits in the counter and notices a Jock with his arms folded, staring blankly at a bowl of chili.
After ten minutes of just sitting there staring at it, the hungry bloke bravely asks.
"If you aren't going to eat that, mind if I do?"
The old Jock slowly turns his head toward the young bloke and says. "Nah, ye can gae ahead."
Eagerly, the young bloke reaches over and slides the bowl over to his place and starts spooning it in with delight.
He gets nearly down to the bottom and notices a dead mouse in the chili.

The sight was shocking and he immediately pukes up the chili back into the bowl.
The old Jock says. "Aye, that's as far as I got too."
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby CYHeli » Tue Jul 15 2014, 10:49

Fat is the past tense of Fit.
What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby If I Was A Bird » Mon Jul 21 2014, 03:49

"As the door of his cell slams shut behind him, the lights go out, Rolf Harris puts his head in his hands and begins to cry.

But behind him a voice sings "Do you think I would leave you crying there when there's room in my bunk for two"...
"I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart" - annon heli pilot....
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby If I Was A Bird » Mon Jul 21 2014, 03:53

Two priests decided to go to Hawaii on vacation.

They were determined to make this a real vacation by not wearing anything that would identify them as clergy. As soon as the plane landed they headed for a store and bought some really outrageous shorts, shirts, sandals, sunglasses, etc.

The next morning they went to the beach dressed in their 'tourist' garb. They were sitting on beach chairs, enjoying a drink, the sunshine and the scenery when a 'drop dead gorgeous' blonde with a strapless bikini came walking straight towards them..
They couldn't help but stare.

As the blonde passed them she smiled and said 'Good Morning, Father ~ Good Morning, Father,' nodding and addressing each of them individually, then she passed on by. They were both stunned.
How in the world did she know they were priests?
So the next day, they went back to the store and bought even more outrageous outfits.

These were so loud you could hear them before you even saw them! Once again, in their new attire, they settled down in their chairs to enjoy the sunshine. After a little while, the same gorgeous blonde, wearing a different colored strapless bikini, taking her sweet time, came walking toward them. Again she nodded at each of them, said

'Good morning, Father ~ Good morning, Father,' and started to walk away. One of the priests couldn't stand it any longer and said, 'Just a minute, young lady.' 'Yes, Father?'
'We are priests and proud of it, but I have to know, how in the world do you know we are priests, dressed as we are?'

She replied, 'Father, it's me, Sister Kathleen .......
"I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart" - annon heli pilot....
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby Yankee » Mon Jul 21 2014, 21:53

Safety announcement:Before shaving your bum hair, READ THIS

STOP! Before you do, read this. You may change your mind.

I have recently made a mistake in my life, and I offer my story to all though tasteless, that you may learn from my error. It all started, as many things do, with me having trouble pooping. No, I was not constipated; this was not a regularity problem but a matter of technique.
It seems my ass-hair had grown to such a length that tiny grogans were constantly getting tied up in the matted jungle between my asscheeks. It led to much frustration, with me KNOWING that I still had something to drop, but unable to shake the tenacious turd loose from its butthair dwelling.

Eventually I would have to do two things: either reach down with somepaper and try to pinch off the lingering loaf (which required careful precision to avoid smearing the creature all over my rear, especially since I had no way of seeing what I was doing) or just go for broke, start wiping, and hope that I could remove all the leftover fecal matter before the toilet paper reached its Can't-Be-Flushed threshold. I was contemplating this problem, when I had what seemed at the time to be a bright idea. "Hey, this is my butt and my butt-hair, right? So why don't I just eliminate all the hair, and then my grogans will flow out like beer from a keg!" I said to myself. It is a statement that will go down in history with a lot of other regretted statements. "How many Indians could there be?" said by General Custer. "Looks like a good day for a drive!" by JFK. "There! America On-line now has complete Usenet access!" by some idiot system tech. Such was my anal shaving idea.

I performed the operation that night, with a cheap disposable razor and a towel to sit on. Starting from the bottom, and shaving from the crack to the cheeks, I began the arduous process of ridding my bum of hair. Occasionally, I would have to clean the razor of accumulated hair, which I did by wiping it on the towel. Slowly, my twin mounds and the between-ravine began to resemble the hairless cheeks of a newborn babe. Finally, I wiped the razor one last time, and surveyed my work. The towel was covered with a pile of hair. My bum was smooth as ivory. I smiled, satisfied, thinking my troubles were over.

Little did I know. I now have a great respect for anal-hair. Like everything in this world God created, it has its mighty purpose in existence. It was only after I had removed it that I started to learn how much I had been taking it for granted. For one, it provides friction. I learned this the next day, when I walked out into the sun heading for class. After climbing two flights of stairs and starting to sweat, I started to notice something unpleasant. The sweat was accumulating in my crack, and was causing the unpleasant sensation of my two asscheeks sliding past each other with every step. I thought about going to the bathroom and wiping it off, but had to get to class. Eventually, I
thought, it would dry. Unfortunately, it did dry, but only after mingling with the microscopic poop -molecules lingering around my brown starfish. When I stood up after class, my cheeks were stuck together with a slimy sticky poop/sweat combination. As I made my way back to my dorm, it started to itch. God-DAMN, did it itch! Felt like a swarm of ants was making its way up and down my crack. Fighting to keep from jamming my hand down there
and scratching away, I rushed back to the dorm. Unfortunately, this exertion caused me to sweat, and when I finally
reached my room, my cheeks were sliding back and forth against each other like a pair of horny cane-toads. I quickly dropped my pants, and attempted to dry my bum off by sticking it in front of a fan and spreading my cheeks.

As I pulled the two mounds of flesh apart, a horrible stench burst free and filled the room. Every dog within a 4 block radius started to howl. I had it worst of all, as the ripe aroma of festering poop/sweat went into the fan and blew back into my face. I fought to keep from heaving. And as I sat there, fighting vomit, my bum cheeks spread and dripping, with the concentrated aroma of my body odor mixed with the tangy smell of my own poop blowing right into my face, I had only one thought: "It will be like this until the hair grows back. Weeks." Later on, trying to deal as best I could, wiping my bum at every opportunity, I discovered another wonderful use for ass-hair - ventilation. I attempted to launch a fart, only to have it get stuck between my asscheeks.

Apparently, with no hair, the two pink twins can get vacuum sealed together, and the result was a frustrating fart that slid up and down between my cheeks like a lost gerbil. As if that wasn't
enough, I am now enduring further torture. As anyone who has ever shaved anything knows, when hair is first growing in, it comes in as stubble. Imagine your bum having the texture of a brillo pad.

Well, that is what I am dealing with now. It is a hellish torture, and there are many times when I just look out the window and contemplate why I shouldn't just jump out and get it all over with in one fleshy splat, rather than endure this constant agony.

Friends-DON'T SHAVE YOUR ASS-HAIR!
Don't think of yourself as and ugly person. Think of yourself as a beautiful monkey.
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby Waka topatopa » Sun Aug 10 2014, 14:47

What's the toughest thing about being a fixed wing pilot?

Having to tell your old man that you are gay!
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby If I Was A Bird » Mon Aug 18 2014, 07:15

i've accidentally swallowed some scrabble tiles.
my next s#!t could spell disaster.

*****************************

went out last night and got really wasted.
i woke up this morning next to a fat old bird who was snoring and farting … so, at least i got home ok

****************************

the wife's back on the warpath again.
she was up for making a home video last night and all i did was suggest we should hold auditions for her part.

****************************

angela merkel arrives at passport control in athens airport.
"nationality?" asks the immigration officer.
"german," she replies.
"occupation?
"no, just here for a few days."

******************************

as the coffin was being lowered into the ground at a traffic warden’s funeral, a voice from inside screams :
"i'm not dead, i'm not dead. let me out!"
the vicar smiles, leans forward, sucking air through his teeth and mutters,
"too late, mate, the paperwork's already done"

******************************

i spent a couple of hours defrosting the fridge last night or "foreplay" as she likes to call it.

******************************

after both suffering from depression for a while, me and the missus were going to commit suicide together yesterday.
strangely enough, however, once she killed herself i started to feel a lot better.
so i thought - sod it, i'll soldier on.

******************************

i woke up this morning at 8 and could sense something was wrong.
i got downstairs and found the wife face down on the kitten floor, not breathing! i panicked. i didn't know what to do.
then i remembered – the local cafe serve breakfast until 11.30.

*******************************

a man is seeking to join the glasgow police force. the sergeant doing the interview says:
"your qualifications all look good, but there is an attitude suitability test that you must take before you can be accepted."
then, sliding a pistol and a box of ammo across the desk, he says:
"take this pistol and go out and shoot six illegal immigrants, six drug dealers, six muslim extremists, and a rabbit"
the man being interviewed asks, "why the rabbit?"
"excellent" says the sergeant. "when can you start?"

*******************************

i came home one night and proudly announced to me dad that i had s e x for the first time.
he said "i hope you took precautions?"
"what do you mean?" i asked.
"did you wear a condom?"
“nah, but i kept me balaclava on.”

******************************

"jesus loves you."
nice to hear in church but not in a mexican prison.
"I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart" - annon heli pilot....
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby rotornuts » Sun Aug 31 2014, 02:51

Fifty Shades of Grey*
by Pam Ayres

The missus bought a Paperback,
down Shepton Mallet way,
I had a look inside her bag;
T'was "Fifty Shades of Grey".

Well I just left her to it,
And at ten I went to bed.
An hour later she appeared;
The sight filled me with dread...

In her left she held a rope;
And in her right a whip!
She threw them down upon the floor,
And then began to strip.

Well fifty years or so ago;
I might have had a peek;
But Ethel hasn't weathered well;
She's eighty four next week!!

Watching Ethel bump and grind;
Could not have been much grimmer.
And things then went from bad to worse;
She toppled off her Zimmer!

She struggled back upon her feet;
A couple minutes later;
She put her teeth back in and said
I am a dominator !!

Now if you knew our Ethel,
You'd see just why I spluttered,
I'd spent two months in traction
For the last complaint I'd uttered.

She stood there nude and naked
Bent forward just a bit
I went to hold her, sensual like
and stood on her left tit!

Ethel screamed, her teeth shot out;
My God what had I done!?
She moaned and groaned then shouted out:
"Step on the other one!!

Well readers, I can tell no more;
Of what occurred that day.
Suffice to say my jet black hair,
Turned fifty shades of grey.
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby CYHeli » Tue Sep 9 2014, 07:47

How many Germans does it take to change a light bulb?
One.
They are very efficient and not very funny!
What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby havick » Tue Sep 9 2014, 10:42

Mondays Joke: Part 61implementation
"You'll have to speak up, I'm wearing a towel."
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby Breece » Tue Sep 9 2014, 12:17

havick wrote:Mondays Joke: Part 61implementation


*like*
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby CYHeli » Tue Oct 28 2014, 04:32

For the really warped amongst you.
shrodingers dog.jpg
What you leave behind is not what is engraved in stone monuments, but what is woven into the lives of others.
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Re: Flight review

Postby flyingpascal » Tue Apr 28 2015, 00:19

Am currently drifting around Australia (only kidding), came across the following letter.

Dear BJ:

I hope you and Sharon are well. I know its been quite a while since you last heard from me, but Doreen and the rest of the family are all OK but I think they're getting a bit pissed off with station life, particularly when there's bugger all rain to speak of - and the cattle and sheep are dying all over the place!

I'm writing to you, mate, because I need your help to get me bloody pilots licence back (you keep telling me you got all the right contacts, well now's your chance to make something happen for me because, mate, I'm bloody desperate). But first, I'd better tell you what happened during my last flight review with the CASA Examiner.

On the phone, Ron (that's the CASA dickhead) seemed a reasonable sort of bloke. He politely reminded me of the need to do a flight review every two years. He even offered to drive out, have look over my property and let me operate from my own ALA. Naturally I agreed to that. Anyway, Ron turned up last Wednesday.

First up, he said he was a bit surprised to see the plane outside my
homestead because the ALA is about a mile away. I explained that because the strip was so close to the homestead, it was more convenient than the ALA, despite the power lines crossing about midway down the strip (it's really not a problem to land and take-off because at the half-way point down the strip you're usually still on the ground). For some reason Ron seemed nervous. So, although I had done the pre-flight inspection only four days earlier, I decided to do it all over again. Because the poppet was watching me carefully, I walked around the plane three times instead of my usual two. My effort was rewarded because the colour finally returned to Ron's cheeks - in fact they went a bright red.

In view of Ron's obviously better mood, I told him I was going to combine the test flight with farm work as I had to deliver three poddy calves from the home paddock to the main herd. After a bit of a chase I finally caught the calves and threw them into the back of the ol' 172. We climbed aboard but Ron started getting' into me about weight and balance calculations and all that bull****. Of course I knew that sort of thing was a waste of time because, calves like to move around a bit, particularly when they see themselves 500 feet off the ground! So, its bloody pointless trying to secure them as you know. However, I did tell Ron that he shouldn't worry as I always keep the trim wheel Araldited to neutral to ensure we remain pretty stable at all stages throughout the flight.

Anyway, I started the engine and cleverly minimised the warm-up time by
tramping hard on the brakes and gunning her to 2,500rpm. I then discovered that Ron has very acute hearing, even though he was wearing a bloody headset. Through all that noise he detected a metallic rattle and demanded I account for it. Actually it began about a month ago and was caused by a screwdriver that fell down a hole in the floor and lodged in the fuel selector mechanism. The selector can't be moved now, but it doesn't matter because it's jammed on 'All tanks', so I suppose that's OK.

However, as Ron was obviously a real nit-picker, I blamed the noise on
vibration from a stainless steel thermos flask, which I keep in a beaut
little possie between the windshield and the magnetic compass. My
explanation seemed to relax Ron because he slumped back in the seat and kept looking up at the cockpit roof. I released the brakes to taxi out but unfortunately the plane gave a leap and spun to the right, "Hell" I thought, "not the starboard wheel chock again". The bump jolted Ron back to full alertness. He looked wildly around just in time to see a rock thrown by the propwash disappear completely through the windscreen of his brand new Commodore. "****, now I'm really in trouble", I thought.

While Ron was busy ranting about his car, I ignored his requirement that we taxi to the ALA and instead took off under the power lines. Ron didn't say a word, at least not until the engine started coughing right at the lift off point, then he bloody screamed his head off, "Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!"

"Now take it easy, Ron" I told him firmly, "that often happens on take-off and there is a good reason for it." I explained patiently that I usually run the plane on standard MOGAS, but one day I accidentally put in a gallon or two of kerosene. To compensate for the low octane of the kerosene, I siphoned in a few gallons off super MOGAS and shook the wings up and down a few times to mix it up. Since then, the engine has been coughing a bit but in general it works just fine, if you know how to coax it properly.

Anyway BJ, at this stage Ron seemed to lose all interest in my flight test. He pulled out some rosary beads, closed his eyes and became lost in prayer (I didn't think anyone was a Catholic these days). I selected some nice music on the HF radio to help him relax. Meanwhile I climbed to my normal cruising altitude of 10,500 feet (I don't normally put in a flight plan or get the weather because as you know getting NAIPS access out here is a f#*% joke and the bloody weather is always 8/8 blue anyway. But since I had that near miss with Saab340, I might have to change me thinking). Anyhow, on levelling out I noticed some wild camels heading into my improved pasture. I hate camels and always carry a loaded .303 clipped inside the door of the Cessna just in case I see any of the bastards. We were too high to hit them, but as a matter of principle, I decided to have a go through the open window. Mate, when I pulled the bloody rifle out, the effect on Ron was friggin' electric. As I fired the first shot his neck lengthened by about six inches and his eyes bulged like a rabbit with myxo. He really looked as if he had been jabbed with an electric cattle prod on full power.

In fact, Ron's reaction was so distracting that I lost concentration for a second and the next shot went straight through the port tyre. Ron was a bit upset about the shooting (probably one of those pinko animal lovers I guess) so I decided not to tell him about our little problem with the tyre. Shortly afterwards I located the main herd and decided to do my fighter pilot trick. Ron had gone back to praying when, in one smooth sequence, I pulled on full flap, cut the power and started a sideslip from 10,500 feet down to 500 feet at 130 knots indicated (the last time I looked anyway) and the little needle rushing up to the red area on me ASI. ****, what a buzz, mate!

About half way through the descent I looked back in the cabin to see the calves gracefully suspended in mid air and mooing like crazy. I was going to comment on this unusual sight but Ron looked a bit green and had rolled himself into the foetal position and was screamin' his f*&%# head off. Mate,talk about being in a bloody zoo. You should've been there, it was so bloody funny!

At about 500 feet I levelled out, but for some reason we continued sinking. When we reached 50 feet I applied full power but nothin' happened; no noise no nothin'. Then, luckily, I heard me instructor's voice in me head saying "carby heat, carby heat", so I pulled carby heat on and that helped quite a lot, with the engine finally regaining full power. Whew, that was really close, let me tell you!

Then mate, you'll never guess what happened next! As luck would have it, at that height we flew into a massive dust cloud caused by the cattle and suddenly went I.F. bloody R, mate. BJ, you would've been bloody proud of me as I didn't panic once, not once, but I did make a mental note to consider an instrument rating as soon as me gyro is repaired (something I've been meaning to do for a while now).

Suddenly Ron's elongated neck and bulging eyes reappeared. His mouth opened wide, very wide, but no sound emerged. "Take it easy," I told him. "we'll be out of this in a minute." Sure enough, about a minute later we emerge; still straight and level and still at 50 feet. Admittedly I was surprised to notice that we were upside down, and I kept thinking to myself "**** I hope Ron didn't notice that I had forgotten to set the QNH when we were taxying". This minor tribulation forced me to fly to a nearby valley in which I had to do a half roll to get upright again.

By now the main herd had divided into two groups leaving a narrow strip
between them. "Ah!," I thought, "there's an omen. We'll land right there."

Knowing that the tyre problem demanded a slow approach, I flew a couple of steep turns with full flap. Soon the stall warning horn was blaring so loud in me ear that I cut its circuit breaker to shut it up, but by then I knew we were slow enough anyway. I turned steeply onto a 75 foot final and put her down with a real thud. Strangely enough, I had always thought you could only ground loop in a tail dragger but, as usual, I was proved wrong again!

Halfway through our third loop Ron at last recovered his sense of humour. Talk about laugh. I've never seen the likes of it; he couldn't stop. We finally rolled to a halt and I released the calves, who bolted out of the aircraft like there was no tomorrow.

I then began picking clumps of dry grass. Between gut wrenching fits of
laughter Ron asked what I was doing. I explained that we had to stuff the port tyre with grass so we could fly back to the homestead. It was then that Ron really lost the plot and started running away from the aircraft. Can you believe it?

The last time I saw him he was off into the distance, arms flailing in the air and still shrieking with laughter. I later heard that he had been confined to a psychiatric institution - poor bastard!

Anyhow, mate, that's enough about Ron. The problem is I just got a letter from CASA withdrawing, as they put it, my privileges to fly; until I have undergone a complete pilot training course again and undertaken another flight proficiency test. Now I admit that I made a mistake in taxiing over the wheel chock and not setting the QNH using strip elevation, but I can't see what else I did that was so bloody bad that they have to withdraw me flamin' licence. Can you?

Anyhow mate, the reason for writing to you is to ask if you know any flight instructors who would be willing to come out the station for about 2 months to help get me back up to speed. I'll pay them good money while they're here and they won't have to worry about paying for food or accommodation.

Looking forward to your response. Until then, take care, mate.

Kindest regards
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby Ian Batton » Wed Apr 29 2015, 03:08

A Honda mechanic was removing a cylinder head from the motor of a Honda when he spotted a well-known cardiologist in his shop. The cardiologist was there waiting for the service manager to come and take a look at his car when the mechanic shouted across the garage, "Hey Doc, want to take a look at this.?"
The cardiologist, a bit surprised, walked over to where the mechanic was working on the Honda.
The mechanic straightened up, wiped his hands on a rag and asked, "So Doc, look at this engine. I opened its heart, took the valves out, repaired or replaced anything damaged, and then put everything back in, and when I finished, it worked just like new.
So how is it that I make £24,000 a year and you make £1.7M when you and I are doing basically the same work.?"
The cardiologist paused, leaned over, and then whispered to the mechanic.... "Try doing it with the f#%k engine running!..
Now where's my beer
300300
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby 300300 » Mon May 25 2015, 21:19

Sheila walked into the kitten to find Bruce stalking around with a fly swatter.
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Hunting Flies" He responded.
"Oh. Killing any?" She asked.
"Yep, 3 males, 2 Females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked. "How can you tell them apart?"
He responded, "3 were on a beer can, 2 were on the phone."
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Re: Mondays Joke

Postby Birdy » Sat Sep 12 2015, 11:22

You blokes are spoton.

I know im a slow reader, but iv just finished this thread.

Just GOLD. :) :)

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