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    John Prescott was late arriving for a Labour Party campaign meeting.

    "Sorry Tony," he said breathlessly as he burst in through the door huffing
    and puffing, "I let the missus drive one of the Jaguars and we ended up
    having
    to stop and change a wheel. It was all her fault!"

    "Puncture?" enquired Blair.

    "Yeah I did," replied Prescott, "but the silly cow deserved it!"

    Comment


      In the beginning God created Eve, and she had 3 breasts.
      After three weeks in the garden, God came to visit Eve.
      "How's things, Eve?" He asked.
      "It is all so beautiful, God," she replied. "the sunrises and sunsets
      are
      breathtaking, the smells, the sights, everything is wonderful but I just
      have this one problem. It's these three breasts you've given me. The
      middle
      one pushes the other two out, and I am constantly
      knocking them with my arms, catching them on branches, snagging them on
      bushes, they're a real pain," reported Eve.
      "That's a fair point," replied God, "but it was my first shot at this,
      you
      know. I gave the animals, six. So I just figured you'd need half, but I
      see
      that you are right. I'll fix that up right away!"
      So, God reaches down and removes the middle breast, tossing it into the
      bushes.
      Three weeks passed, and God once again visited Eve in the garden.
      "Well, Eve, how's my favourite creation?" He asked.
      "Just fantastic," she replied, "but for one small oversight on your
      part.
      You see, all the animals are paired off. The ewe has her ram, the cow
      has
      her bull, all the animals have a mate except me. I feel so alone."
      God thought for a moment. "You know, Eve, you're right. How could I have
      overlooked this! You do need a mate and I will immediately create Man
      from a
      part of you!
      Now, let's see...where did I put that useless tit?"

      Comment


        13th time lucky...

        This guy got married to a woman who had previously
        been married 12 times.
        On their wedding night, they settled into the
        bridal suite at their hotel and the bride said to
        her new groom, "Please, promise to be gentle. I
        am still a virgin."

        This puzzled the groom since, after 12 marriages,
        he thought that at least one of her husbands would
        have been able to perform. He asked his new bride
        to explain the phenomenon. She responded:

        "My first husband was a Sales Representative who
        spent the entire marriage telling me, in grandiose
        terms, how great it was going to be."

        "My second husband was from Software Services; he
        was never quite sure how it was supposed to function,
        but he promised he would send me the documentation."

        "My third husband was from Field Services and
        repeatedly said that everything was diagnostically
        OK, but he couldn't get the system up."

        "My fourth husband was from Educational Services,
        and you know the old saying goes 'Those who CAN, DO;
        those who can't, teach'."

        "My fifth husband was from the Telemarketing
        Department. He knew he had the order, but he wasn't
        quite sure when he was going to be able to deliver."

        "My sixth husband was an Engineer. He told me that
        he understood the basic process but needed three years
        to research, implement, and design a new state-of-the-art
        method."

        'My seventh husband was from Finance and
        Administration. He knew how, but he just wasn't sure
        whether it was his job or not."

        "My eighth husband was from Standards and Regulations,
        and he told me that he met the minimum standards but
        regulations weren't clear on how to do it."

        "My ninth husband was a Marketing Manager. Even
        though he had the product, he just wasn't sure how to
        position it."

        "My tenth husband was a psychiatrist. All he ever
        wanted to do was talk about it."

        "My eleventh husband was a gynecologist, and all he
        ever wanted to do was look at it."

        "My twelfth husband was a stamp collector, and all
        he ever wanted to do was .……………………….
        ……..God I really miss him!"

        "So now I've married you, and I'm really excited
        about it."

        "Why is that," he asked.

        "Well, it should be obvious! You're a lawyer! I
        just KNOW I'm going to get screwed this time!"

        Comment


          In front of a delicatessen, an art connoisseur noticed a mangy little
          kitten lapping up milk from a saucer. The saucer, he realized with a
          start, was a rare and precious piece of pottery.

          He strolled into the store and offered two dollars for the cat. "It's
          not for sale," said the proprietor.

          "Look," said the collector, "that cat is dirty and undesirable, but
          I'm eccentric. I like cats that way. I'll raise my offer to ten dollars."

          "It's a deal," said the proprietor, and pocketed the ten on the spot.

          "For that sum I'm sure you won't mind throwing in the saucer," said
          the connoisseur. "The kitten seems so happy drinking from it." "Nothing
          doing," said the proprietor firmly.

          "That's my lucky saucer. From that saucer, so far this week I've sold
          34 cats."

          Comment


            A woman was out golfing one day when she hit her ball into the
            woods. She went into the woods to look for it and found frog in a
            trap. The frog said to her, "If you release me from this trap, I
            will grant you 3 wishes.

            The woman freed the frog and the frog said, "Thank you, but I
            failed to mention that there was a condition to your wishes - that
            whatever you wish for, your husband will get 10 times more or
            better!

            The woman said, "That would be okay," and for her first wish,
            she wanted to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

            The frog warned her, "You do realize that this wish will also
            make your husband the most handsome man in the world that women
            will flock to."

            The woman replied, "That will be okay because I will be the
            most beautiful woman and he will only have eyes for me."

            So, *KAZAM* she's the most beautiful woman in the world!

            For her second wish, she wanted to be the richest woman in the
            world. The frog said, "That will make your husband the handsome
            man in the world and he will be ten times richer than you."

            The woman said, "That will be okay because what is mine is his
            and what is his is mine."

            So, *KAZAM* she's the richest woman in the world!

            The frog then inquired about her third wish, and she answered,
            "I'd like a mild heart attack."

            Moral of the story: Women are clever bitches - don't mess with them.

            Comment


              A doctor was having an affair with his Italian-born nurse. Shortly
              afterward, she told him she was pregnant. Not wanting his wife to
              know, he gave the nurse a sum of money and asked her to go to Italy
              and have the baby there.

              "But how will I let you know when the baby is born?" she asked.

              He replied, "Just send me a postcard and write 'spaghetti' on the
              back.

              I'll take care of all the child's expenses."

              Not knowing what else to do, the nurse took the money and flew to
              Italy.

              Six months went by and then one day the doctor's wife called him at
              the office, "Dear, you received a very strange postcard in the mail
              today from Europe, and I don't understand what it means."

              The doctor said, "Just wait until I get home, and I will explain it
              to you."

              Later that evening the doctor came home, read the postcard, and fell
              to the floor with a heart attack. Paramedics rushed him to the ER.
              The lead medic stayed back to comfort the wife. He asked her what she
              thought might have caused the cardiac arrest. The wife picked up the
              card and read it to him: "Four Spaghettis: Two with sausage and
              meatballs, two without."

              Comment


                A young actor joins a rep and is given a small part in a play.
                He is a lover, in the play, of the leading lady. In one scene he has to
                come on with a rose in his hand, sniff it and say "ahh, the sweet smell
                of my lover"
                No matter how often he tries, he just cant get the words right. It comes
                to opening night, he walks on and says " ahh, the sweet smell of my
                lover" Rejoicing that he got the words right, he leaves the stage as the
                audience erupt into mayhem and says to the director "whats all the noise?
                I got the words right"
                Yes said the director, but you forgot the rose!!!

                Comment


                  Englishman, American and Russian
                  An English soldier, an American solider and a Russian soldier found
                  themselves sharing a tent while on a military exercise, and the
                  conversation turned towards how well fed each of them was.

                  "In the Russian army we have 2000 calories of food a day" said the
                  Russian. "Well", said the Englishman, "In the British army we are given
                  4000 calories of food a day." "That's nothing", said the American, "in
                  the US army we have 8000 calories of food a day". At this the Russian got
                  very annoyed. "Nonsense", he said, "how could one man eat so much
                  cabbage."

                  Comment


                    William Penn, the founder and mayor of Philadelphia, had two aunts: Hattie
                    and Sophia, who were skilled in the baking arts. "Big Bill" was petitioned
                    by the citizens of his town because the three bakeries in the town had
                    during the Revolution raised the price of pies to the point that only the
                    rich could afford them.

                    He turned to his aunts and asked their advice. The wonderful old ladies
                    were so incensed over this situation that they offered to bake 100 pies
                    and sell them for 2 cents lower that any of the bakeries were charging.

                    They were not only successful in bringing the price of pastry down in
                    Philadelphia, but they established an historical item for the reference
                    books.

                    To this day, scholars still talk about the remarkable pie rates of Penn's
                    aunts.

                    Comment


                      Allegedly this is a genuine letter which appeared in the Bristol Evening
                      News at the beginning of the month. Please do take the time to read it. It
                      is clearly a work of genius and simply put, the writer should be knighted

                      Dear Sir,

                      It has long been my belief that you should only be allowed to protest in
                      public if you pay income tax. And you should only be allowed to vote at
                      the ballot box if you own property. Sensible policies, both. And tested in
                      time, too. If only Mr. Blah had thought to bring about these simple
                      changes in the law, he would have avoided last week's double embarrassment
                      of Red Ken's election and the rioting soap-dodgers. Perhaps it's me, but
                      could someone explain why people who campaign for animal rights would
                      throw bottles at police horses? Or why Friends of the Earth supporters
                      would want to dig up the grass in a perfectly adequate London square? Or
                      why anti-capitalists thought nicking the till out of a burger bar was a
                      political statement? Or why campaigners for freedom would desecrate a
                      shrine to the very people who fought and died for that freedom? What a
                      bunch of immature, selfish, hypocritical idiots. Bring down the State?

                      Better not, Tarquin. The State provides your giro and your housing
                      benefit, you work-shy moron. What would you do without that little green
                      cheque every other Thursday? Somebody has to pay for the extra-strong
                      cider and multiple nose piercings.

                      It makes me sick. If a bunch of football fans had pulled a stunt like
                      that, they'd have been banged up before you could say CS gas. But this
                      gang of middle-class warriors was allowed to deface national monuments
                      while the police looked on. Mind you, Winston Churchill with a green
                      Mohican haircut would have scared the wotsername out of Adolf Hitler.

                      My comments on the moral values of travellers seem to have ruffled a few
                      feathers amongst the bleeding-heart Lefties who live like leeches on the
                      publicly-funded fat of our society. One enraged correspondent (it must
                      have been his turn to have the crayons this week) accuses me of using
                      "intemperate and exaggerated language", says people like me should be
                      exterminated and then likens me to Adolf Hitler. Pot, kettle, black, old
                      pal. Another wailing Willy, who was obviously off sick the day they did
                      irony at school, challenges me to produce hard evidence to support my
                      claim that gypsies steal babies. Evidence? Of course there's no evidence.
                      It's all covered up by a conspiracy of Masonic magistrates, policemen and
                      politicians, aided and abetted by a secret sect of corrupt district
                      nurses.
                      Somewhere in Essex, there's a warehouse full of stolen babies. They're
                      brought up by retired lap dancers and then they go off to be prison
                      officers. Stick that in your meat-free pipe and smoke it, you monument of
                      mediocrity.

                      My final correspondent (green ink, pressed down VERY HARD so that it comes
                      through the back of the white weave Basildon Bond) argues that travellers
                      are people too and have the right to live just as they want. Half right,
                      mate. Travellers have the right to live as they want as long as they abide
                      by the rules that bind the rest of us. That means paying road tax, paying
                      council tax and buying a television licence. It means paying for a plot of
                      land on which to live and paying income tax on the proceeds of patching up
                      all those dodgy driveways. It means obeying the law, rather than laughing
                      at it. And the sooner the hand-wringing apologists on most councils
                      realise this, the better.

                      My doctor has forbidden me to read The Guardian on the grounds that it
                      does terrible things to my blood pressure, but I sneaked a look last week
                      to see the following: "Burglars are people. For the most part, young
                      people, even teenagers. From their point of view burglary must be fun as
                      well as a way of making a few quid." Fun? Fun? What are they on? What a
                      bunch of lily-livered, social-working, leather-elbowed windbags. Fun?

                      Just ask an old lady who's been terrorised, had her last few possessions
                      stolen and who now lives in permanent fear. Fun? Just ask anyone who has
                      to pay sky high insurance premiums because the cops would rather catch
                      drivers eating Kit Kats than tattooed scrotes running off with your video
                      recorder. I'll give them fun, these poor lambs. Any sticky-fingered yobbo
                      coming within a hundred yards of Beelzebub Mansions will get to play a
                      game currently popular amongst country dwellers. It's called Reasonable
                      Force and involves a teenage thief, a baseball bat and a five iron.

                      Yours faithfully,

                      Barry Beelzebub*

                      *The views of Mr. Beelzebub are purely personal and do not necessarily
                      reflect the opinions of the Editor or staff of this newspaper, or anyone
                      who thinks our new cabinet-style council will result in more openness, of
                      anyone who thinks Jez Quigley is hard, or of the snotty-nosed schoolboy in
                      the back of the Volvo estate who stuck two fingers up at me this morning.
                      Your Dad's phone number was painted on the side, Sonny. And I'm ringing
                      him tonight.

                      Comment

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