Jokes Thread
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Trivium Nate
BSOD
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Rafazz Funny!
Raffaz
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Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, and Jean-Claude Van Damme are standing around talking about their latest films. Suddenly, a huge hand comes down from the sky, and points at Sly. A deep voice booms out 'I am God, and I will make you into a famous composer'.
Sly thinks about it for a minute, then replies 'Can I be Mozart?', and in a flash, he's transformed, curly wig and all. The hand then points at Van Damme, and again says 'I will make you into a famous composer'. Van Damme considers this, and says 'I would like to be Beethoven', and he too is transformed into a curly-wigged, somewhat deaf composer (or a damn big dog if you like).
Finally, the hands points to Arnie. 'Who will you be?', the voice intones. Instantly Schwarzenegger replies :
'I'll be Bach'
I know, they're getting worse lol
Sly thinks about it for a minute, then replies 'Can I be Mozart?', and in a flash, he's transformed, curly wig and all. The hand then points at Van Damme, and again says 'I will make you into a famous composer'. Van Damme considers this, and says 'I would like to be Beethoven', and he too is transformed into a curly-wigged, somewhat deaf composer (or a damn big dog if you like).
Finally, the hands points to Arnie. 'Who will you be?', the voice intones. Instantly Schwarzenegger replies :
'I'll be Bach'
I know, they're getting worse lol
Raffaz
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a taxman with a sense of humour??
Taken from the Guardian, an actual letter sent by the Inland Revenue:
Dear Mr Addison,
I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise. I will address them, as ever, in order. Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a "begging letter". It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a "tax demand". This is how we, at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy; traditionally referred to such documents.
Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the "endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat" has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from "pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers" might indicate that your decision to "file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies" is at best a little ill-advised. In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a "lackwit bumpkin†or, come to that, a "sodding charity". More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.
Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay "go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services", a moment's rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to "stump up for the whole damned party" yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor's disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on "junkets for Bunterish lickspittles" and "dancing whores" whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, "that box-ticking façade of a university system."
A couple of technical points arising from direct queries:
1. The reason we don't simply write "Muggins" on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system;
2. You can rest assured that "sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give" has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn't render it irrelevant, the sheer medicallogistics involved would make it financially unviable.
I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to "give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India" you would still owe us the money.
Please forward it by Friday.
Yours Sincerely,
H J Lee
Customer Relations
Taken from the Guardian, an actual letter sent by the Inland Revenue:
Dear Mr Addison,
I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise. I will address them, as ever, in order. Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a "begging letter". It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a "tax demand". This is how we, at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy; traditionally referred to such documents.
Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the "endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat" has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from "pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers" might indicate that your decision to "file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies" is at best a little ill-advised. In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a "lackwit bumpkin†or, come to that, a "sodding charity". More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.
Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay "go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services", a moment's rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to "stump up for the whole damned party" yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor's disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on "junkets for Bunterish lickspittles" and "dancing whores" whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, "that box-ticking façade of a university system."
A couple of technical points arising from direct queries:
1. The reason we don't simply write "Muggins" on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system;
2. You can rest assured that "sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give" has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn't render it irrelevant, the sheer medicallogistics involved would make it financially unviable.
I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to "give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India" you would still owe us the money.
Please forward it by Friday.
Yours Sincerely,
H J Lee
Customer Relations
mammikoura
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freestyler105
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Hahaha what an old joke, but I love it. Better with many women present
Raffaz
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Gathering Snails
A wife and her husband were having a dinner party for all the major status figures in Rome, Italy.
The wife was very excited about this and wanted everything to be perfect. At the very last minute, she realized that she didn't have any snails for this dinner party, so she asked her husband to run down to the beach with the bucket she was handing him to gather some snails. Very grudgingly he agreed.
He took the bucket, walked out the door, down the steps, and out to the beach. As he was collecting the snails, he noticed a beautiful woman walking alongside the water just a little further down the beach. He kept thinking to himself "Wouldn't it be great if she would even just come down and talk to me." He went back to gathering the snails.
All of a sudden he looked up, and the beautiful woman was standing right over him. They got to talking, and she invited him back to her place.
They were at her apartment a ways down the beach, and they started messing around. It got so hot and heavy, that he was exhausted afterwards and passed out there.
At seven o'clock the next morning he woke up and exclaimed, "Oh no! My wife's dinner party!"
He gathered all his clothes, put them on really quickly, grabbed his bucket, and ran out the door.
He ran down the beach all the way to his apartment. He ran up the stairs of his apartment. He was in such a hurry that when he got to the top of the stairs, he dropped the bucket of snails.
There were snails all down the stairs. The door opened just then, with a very angry wife standing in the door way wondering where he's been all this time.
He looked at the snails on the steps, then he looked at her, then back at the snails and said - "Come on guys, we're almost there!"
A wife and her husband were having a dinner party for all the major status figures in Rome, Italy.
The wife was very excited about this and wanted everything to be perfect. At the very last minute, she realized that she didn't have any snails for this dinner party, so she asked her husband to run down to the beach with the bucket she was handing him to gather some snails. Very grudgingly he agreed.
He took the bucket, walked out the door, down the steps, and out to the beach. As he was collecting the snails, he noticed a beautiful woman walking alongside the water just a little further down the beach. He kept thinking to himself "Wouldn't it be great if she would even just come down and talk to me." He went back to gathering the snails.
All of a sudden he looked up, and the beautiful woman was standing right over him. They got to talking, and she invited him back to her place.
They were at her apartment a ways down the beach, and they started messing around. It got so hot and heavy, that he was exhausted afterwards and passed out there.
At seven o'clock the next morning he woke up and exclaimed, "Oh no! My wife's dinner party!"
He gathered all his clothes, put them on really quickly, grabbed his bucket, and ran out the door.
He ran down the beach all the way to his apartment. He ran up the stairs of his apartment. He was in such a hurry that when he got to the top of the stairs, he dropped the bucket of snails.
There were snails all down the stairs. The door opened just then, with a very angry wife standing in the door way wondering where he's been all this time.
He looked at the snails on the steps, then he looked at her, then back at the snails and said - "Come on guys, we're almost there!"
Raffaz
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Drunk Test
A police officer pulls over this guy who's been weaving in and out of the lanes.
He goes up to the guy's window and says, "Sir, I need you to blow into this breathalyzer tube."
The man says, "Sorry, officer, I can't do that. I am an asthmatic. If I do that, I'll have a really bad asthma attack."
"Okay, fine. I need you to come down to the station to give a blood sample."
"I can't do that either. I am a hemophiliac. If I do that, I'll bleed to death."
"Well, then, we need a urine sample."
"I'm sorry, officer, I can't do that either. I am also a diabetic. If I do that, I'll get really low blood sugar."
"All right, then I need you to come out here and walk this white line."
"I can't do that, officer."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm drunk."
A police officer pulls over this guy who's been weaving in and out of the lanes.
He goes up to the guy's window and says, "Sir, I need you to blow into this breathalyzer tube."
The man says, "Sorry, officer, I can't do that. I am an asthmatic. If I do that, I'll have a really bad asthma attack."
"Okay, fine. I need you to come down to the station to give a blood sample."
"I can't do that either. I am a hemophiliac. If I do that, I'll bleed to death."
"Well, then, we need a urine sample."
"I'm sorry, officer, I can't do that either. I am also a diabetic. If I do that, I'll get really low blood sugar."
"All right, then I need you to come out here and walk this white line."
"I can't do that, officer."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm drunk."
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