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    > Three Italian nuns die and go to heaven where they are met
    > at the Pearly gates by St. Peter. He says, "Ladies, you all led such
    > wonderful lives that I am granting you six months to go back to earth and
    > be anyone you want.
    >
    > The first nun says, "I want to be Sophia Loren" and
    > *poof*, she's gone.
    >
    > The second nun says, "I want to be Madonna" and *poof*,
    > she's gone.
    >
    > The third nun says, "I want to be Sara Pipalini."
    >
    > St.Peter looks perplexed. "Who?" he asks.
    >
    > "Sara Pipalini" replies the nun. St. Peter shakes his head
    > and says, "I'm sorry but that name doesn't ring a bell."
    >
    > The nun then takes a newspaper out of her habit and hands
    > it to St. Peter. He reads the paper and starts laughing.
    >
    > He hands it back to her and says...."No Sister, this headline
    > says 'Sahara Pipeline, laid by 1,900 men in 6 months.'"
    Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

    Comment


      > Once upon a time in a nice little forest, there
      > lived an orphaned bunny and an
      > orphaned snake.
      > By a surprising coincidence, both were blind from
      > birth.
      >
      > One day, the bunny was hopping through the forest,
      > and the snake was slithering
      > through the forest, when the bunny tripped over the
      > snake and fell down. This, of
      > course, knocked the snake about quite a bit.
      >
      > "Oh, my," said the bunny, "I'm terribly sorry. I
      > didn't mean to hurt you. I've been
      > blind since birth, so, I can't see where I'm going.
      > In fact, since I'm also an
      > orphan, I don't even know what I am."
      >
      > "It's quite OK," replied the snake. "Actually, my
      > story is much the same as yours.
      > I, too, have been blind since birth, and also never
      > knew my mother. Tell you what,
      > maybe I could slither all over you, and work out
      > what you are, so at least you'll
      > have that going for you."
      >
      > "Oh, that would be wonderful" replied the bunny. So
      > the snake slithered all over
      > the bunny, and said, "Well, you're covered with soft
      > fur; you have really long ears;
      >
      > your nose twitches; and you have a soft cottony
      > tail. I'd say that you must be a
      > bunny rabbit."
      >
      > "Oh, thank you! Thank you," cried the bunny, in
      > obvious excitement. The bunny
      > suggested to the snake, "Maybe I could feel you all
      > over with my paw, and help you
      > the same way that you've helped me."
      >
      > So the bunny felt the snake all over, and remarked,
      > "Well, you're slippery and
      > slimy, and you have a forked tongue, no backbone and
      > no balls. I'd say you must
      > be French".
      Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

      Comment


        When is a fairy not a fairy?
        When she has her head in a pixies trousers, then shes a goblin.

        To impress his wife a man had "I love you" tatooed on his cock. When showing his wife she said"there you go again, putting words in my mouth"

        Why is it you can sue a cigarette company for giving you cancer?
        Why is it you can sue McDonalds for making you fat ?
        But you cant sue Fosters for all the fat ugly birds that you shagged.

        In Alabama a black man was found on fire whilst tied to a cross. The forensic examination showed he had also been shot 6 times in the head . After months of investigation the Alabama chief of police stated "its the worst case of suicide Ive ever seen"
        Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

        Comment


          > A letter to the London Observer from Terry Jones (yes, of Monty
          Python).
          >
          > Sunday January 26, 2003
          > The Observer
          >
          > I'm really excited by George Bush's latest reason for bombing Iraq:
          > he's running out of patience. And so am I! For some time now I've been
          > really pissed off with Mr Johnson, who lives a couple of doors down the
          > street.
          >
          > Well, him and Mr Patel, who runs the health food shop. They both give
          > me queer looks, and I'm sure Mr Johnson is planning something nasty for
          > me, but so far I haven't been able to discover what.
          >
          > I've been round to his place a few times to see what he's up to, but
          > he's got everything well hidden. That's how devious he is. As for Mr
          > Patel, don't ask me how I know, I just know - from very good sources -
          > that he is, in reality, a Mass Murderer. I have leafleted the street
          > telling them that if we don't act first, he'll pick us off one by one.
          >
          > Some of my neighbours say, if I've got proof, why don't I go to the
          > police? But that's simply ridiculous. The police will say that they
          > need evidence of a crime with which to charge my neighbours. They'll
          > come up with endless red tape and quibbling about the rights and wrongs
          > of a pre-emptive strike and all the while Mr Johnson will be finalising
          > his plans to do terrible things to me, while Mr Patel will be secretly
          > murdering people.
          >
          > Since I'm the only one in the street with a decent range of automatic
          > firearms, I reckon it's up to me to keep the peace. But until recently
          > that's been a little difficult. Now, however, George W. Bush has made
          > it clear that all I need to do is run out of patience, and then I can
          > wade in and do whatever I want!
          >
          > And let's face it, Mr Bush's carefully thought-out policy towards Iraq
          > is the only way to bring about international peace and security. The
          > one certain way to stop Muslim fundamentalist suicide bombers targeting
          > the US or the UK is to bomb a few Muslim countries that have never
          > threatened us.
          >
          > That's why I want to blow up Mr Johnson's garage and kill his wife and
          > children. Strike first! That'll teach him a lesson. Then he'll leave us
          > in peace and stop peering at me in that totally unacceptable way. Mr
          > Bush makes it clear that all he needs to know before bombing Iraq is
          > that Saddam is a really nasty man and that he has weapons of mass
          > destruction - even if no one can find them. I'm certain I've just as
          > much justification for killing Mr Johnson's wife and children as Mr
          > Bush has for bombing Iraq. Mr Bush's long-term aim is to make the world
          > a safer place by eliminating 'rogue states' and 'terrorism'.
          >
          > It's such a clever long-term aim because how can you ever know when
          > you've achieved it?
          >
          > How will Mr Bush know when he's wiped out all terrorists? When every
          > single terrorist is dead? But then a terrorist is only a terrorist once
          > he's committed an act of terror. What about would-be terrorists? These
          > are the ones you really want to eliminate, since most of the known
          > terrorists,
          > being suicide bombers, have already eliminated themselves.
          >
          > Perhaps Mr Bush needs to wipe out everyone who could possibly be a
          > future terrorist? Maybe he can't be sure he's achieved his objective
          > until every Muslim fundamentalist is dead? But then some moderate
          > Muslims might convert to fundamentalism. Maybe the only really safe
          > thing to do would be for Mr Bush to eliminate all Muslims?
          >
          > It's the same in my street. Mr Johnson and Mr Patel are just the tip of
          > the iceberg. There are dozens of other people in the street who I don't
          > like and who - quite frankly - look at me in odd ways. No one will be
          > really safe until I've wiped them all out. My wife says I might be
          > going too far but I tell her I'm simply using the same logic as the
          > President of the United States. That shuts her up.
          >
          > Like Mr Bush, I've run out of patience, and if that's a good enough
          > reason for the President, it's good enough for me. I'm going to give
          > the whole street two weeks - no, 10 days - to come out in the open and
          > hand over all
          > aliens and interplanetary hijackers, galactic outlaws and interstellar
          > terrorist masterminds, and if they don't hand them over nicely and say
          > 'Thank you', I'm going to bomb the entire street to kingdom come.
          >
          > It's just as sane as what George W. Bush is proposing - and, in
          > contrast to what he's intending, my policy will destroy only one
          > street.
          >
          Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

          Comment


            Why do men tell lies?

            One day, while a woodcutter was cutting a branch of a tree above a
            river, his axe fell into the river.
            When he cried out, the Lord appeared and asked, "Why are you crying?"
            The woodcutter replied that his axe had fallen into water.
            The Lord went down into the water and reappeared
            with a golden axe. "Is this your axe?" the Lord asked.
            The woodcutter replied, "No."

            The Lord again went down and came up with a silver axe. "Is this your
            axe?" the Lord asked. Again, the woodcutter replied, "No."

            The Lord went down again and came up with an iron axe. "Is this your
            axe?" the Lord asked. The woodcutter replied, "Yes."

            The Lord was pleased with the man's honesty and gave him all three axe
            to
            keep, and the woodcutter went home happily.

            One day while he was walking with his wife along the riverbank, the
            woodcutter's wife fell into the river. When he cried out, the Lord
            again appeared and asked him, "Why are you crying?"
            "Oh Lord, my wife has fallen into the water!"

            The Lord went down into the water and came up with
            Jennifer Lopez. "Is this your wife?" the Lord asked.
            "Yes," cried the woodcutter.

            The Lord was furious. "You cheat! That is an untruth!" The woodcutter
            replied, "Oh, forgive me, my Lord. It is a misunderstanding. You see,
            if I said 'no' to Jennifer Lopez, You will come up with Catherine
            Zeta-Jones.
            Then if I also say 'no' to her, You will thirdly come up with my wife,
            and I will say 'yes,' and then all three will be given to me.
            But Lord, I am a poor man and I will not be able to take care of all
            three wives, so
            that's why I said yes this time."

            The moral of the story is whenever a man lies it is for an honorable
            and useful reason.
            Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

            Comment


              > A couple were invited to a swanky family masked fancy dress Halloween
              > party. The wife got a terrible headache and told her husband to go to the
              > party alone. He, being a devoted husband, protested, but she argued and
              > said she was going to take some aspirin and go to bed and there was no
              need
              > for his good-time to be spoiled by not going. So he took his costume and
              > away he went.
              >
              > The wife, after sleeping soundly for about an hour, woke without pain and
              > as it was still early, decided to go to the party. As her husband didn't
              > know what her costume was, she thought she would have some fun by watching
              > her husband to see how he acted when she was not with him.
              >
              > So she joined the party and soon spotted her husband cavorting around on
              > the dance floor, dancing with every nice "chick" he could and copping a
              > little feel here and a little kiss there. His wife went up to him and
              being
              > a rather seductive babe herself, he left his new partner high and dry and
              > devoted his time to her. She let him go as far as he wished, naturally,
              > since he was her husband.
              >
              > After more drinks he finally he whispered a little proposition in her ear
              > and she agreed, so off they went to one of the cars and had passionate
              > intercourse in the back seat. Just before unmasking at midnight, she
              > slipped away and went home and put the costume away and got into bed,
              > wondering what kind of explanation he would make up for his outrageous
              > behavior.
              >
              > She was sitting up reading when he came in, so she asked what kind of time
              > he had.
              >
              > "Oh, the same old thing. You know I never have a good time when you're not
              > there."
              >
              > Then she asked, "Did you dance much?"
              >
              > He replied, "I'll tell you, I never even danced one dance. When I got
              > there, I met Pete, Bill Brown and some other guys, so we went into the
              > spare room and played poker all evening."
              >
              > "You must have looked really silly wearing that costume playing poker all
              > night!" she said with unashamed sarcasm.
              >
              > To which the husband replied, "Actually, I gave my costume to your Dad,
              > apparently he had the time of his life."
              Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

              Comment


                Defense Attorney: What is your age?
                Little old Woman: I am 86 years old.
                Defense Attorney: Will you tell us in your own words what happened
                to you?
                Little old Woman: There I was, sitting there in my swing on my front
                porch on a warm spring evening, when a young man comes creeping up
                on the porch and sat down beside me.
                Defense Attorney: Did you know him?
                Little old Woman: No, but he sure was friendly.
                Defense Attorney: What happened after he sat down?
                Little old Woman: He started to rub my thigh.
                Defense Attorney: Did you stop him?
                Little old Woman: No, I didn't stop him.
                Defense Attorney: Why not?
                Little old Woman: It felt good. Nobody had done that since my Abner
                passed away some 30 years ago.
                Defense Attorney: What happened next?
                Little old Woman: He began to rub my breasts.
                Defense Attorney: Did you stop him then?
                Little old Woman: No, I did not stop him.
                Defense Attorney: Why not?
                Little old Woman: Why, Your Honor, his rubbing made me feel all
                alive and and excited. I haven't felt that good in years!
                Defense Attorney: What happened next?
                Little old Woman: Well, I was feeling so spicy that I just laid down
                and said to him..."Take me ...young man...Take me!"
                Defense Attorney: Did he take you?
                Little old Woman: Heck, no. He just yelled, "April Fool!" .And
                that's when I shot him..................
                Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

                Comment


                  > An Indian walks into a cafe with a shotgun in one hand and a bucket of
                  > buffalo manure in the other. He says to the waiter, "I want a cup of
                  > coffee."
                  >
                  > The waiter says, "Sure chief, coming right up." He gets the Indian a
                  tall
                  > mug of coffee, and the Indian drinks it down in one gulp, picks up the
                  > bucket of manure, throws it into the air, blasts it with the shotgun,
                  then
                  > just walks out.
                  >
                  > The next morning the Indian returns. He has his shotgun in one hand and
                  a
                  > bucket of manure in the other. He walks up to the counter and says to
                  the
                  > waiter, "I want a cup of coffee."
                  >
                  > The waiter says, "Whoa, Tonto. We're still cleaning up your mess from
                  the
                  > last time you were here. What the heck was all that about, anyway?"
                  >
                  > The Indian says, "Me in training for Executive Management job. Drink
                  > coffee, shoot the tulip, and disappear for rest of the day."
                  Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

                  Comment


                    > >A German general and an Italian general are sharing a
                    > >meal before they go to battle with the Allies. Their
                    > >assistants come running in and say that they have been
                    > >informed from the front that they are under attack and
                    > >are needed immediately. The German says to his
                    > >assistant "get my uniform ready and put out my red
                    > >shirt!" to which the Italian, puzzled by this request,
                    > >asks him about his choice. The German replies "if I
                    > >wear my red shirt and the fighting becomes fierce and
                    > >I get shot, my troops wont't notice my blood and
                    > >therefore won't lose heart." "That is magnificent"
                    > >cries the Italian, and calls to his assistant "get my
                    > >uniform ready and put out my brown pants!"
                    Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

                    Comment


                      > >What is green and white, 2 miles long and has an
                      > >arsehole every 2 feet?


                      > >A Saint Patricks Day parade.
                      Brexit is having a wee in the middle of the room at a house party because nobody is talking to you, and then complaining about the smell.

                      Comment

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