I just received the finest joke via email. It had the subject title “FW: Hilarious!!! Onestone!!!” Now, I’ve just this very second invented the Whatever Next? Model of Absurd Extrapolation, so I was amazed to suddenly find myself at the very forefront of a new model of joke distribution.
Even if I’m not the first person to have ever received a joke by email, and I’m fairly certain I am, then I’m certainly the first to report it on a “blog”. I won’t tell the whole joke, I will instead reduce it to the vital elements.
[Original email here]
- Because it is a reference to his single testicle, an Indian called Onestone threatens to kill anyone who calls him Onestone, which is his name.
- A lady called Yellow Bird says “Hello Onestone”, and he kills her, using his penis to fuck death into her every bone.
- Another lady called Blue Bird says “Hello Onestone OoOOPs” and he takes her to one side, but this time he utterly fails to kill her like the previous girl, despite repeatedly sticking it in against her will.
- The moral of the story is : “A testicle deficit hinders any prolonged rampage of serious sexual assault and murder.”
Now, this joke made me laugh so much that I got rather stern feeling in my tummy. So I’m going to write five more jokes along identical lines!
- Once upon a time there was a town called THE BROTH. Then someone built a crypt or TOMB in the town centre and everyone said “oh no, TOMB will SPOIL THE BROTH” but it didn’t. Perhaps spurred on by the towns resilience to such spoilation, a town planner decided to build a big concrete HEN that he could ride in the middle of the night. “Oh no,” cried the Town Mayor. “TOMB, HEN will certainly SPOIL THE BROTH”. But it didn’t. Then they had the internet installed and everyone sent each other pornographic greetings cards called E-COCKS. And the town was totally spoiled.
Serious town planning is not to be trusted to the whims of fanciful architects. Also be careful of bawdy online content. - Water : Hello, Blood! Let’s do sums!
Blood : HA HA! IT’S A BRA! Give us a biscuit I’m staaaarrrrving.
Deal only with your social equals. - Once upon a time a man called HOT NUTS walked into a pub. The woman behind the bar, whose name was THE PRINCESS, immediately revealed her anus and said “Would you like to sink FAT COCK’S HEAD into this BUCKET OF SHIT?” The man was astounded until she explained that Fat Cock was the name of the pub’s dog, and she produced a bucket of shit from behind the counter and apologised about exposing her anus, explaining that it was a nervous reaction to innuendo. As HOT NUTS forced the dog’s head into the bucket of shit, he reflectsed;
Ensure that there is no ambiguity in an offer of sex – if there is, seek to iron it out. - Six years ago I was trying to change a light bulb. I tried screw bulbs and bayonet fittings, and over seven different sizes and shape of bulb. But no matter what I did, I couldn’t get the light socket to work. I reasoned that it was an electrical fault, and called the professionals in. Imagine my shock when the man who came to fix my bulb had no fingers, and just a tiny patella on the end of each stump! He winked, and said “My knee-hands make light work”, before I brought a tray of ceramic thimbles crashing down on his fucking head.
Never startle me with a poorly flagged pun. - There was once a war between two VERY different kinds of people, the VAGINAS and the PENISSES. The PENISSES liked watching football and washing their car, whereas the VAGINAS enjoyed strong narratives and emotional complexity. Reasoning that they could never get along, the VAGINAS moved away, into a place they called TINKLE SPRINKLES. And the PENISSES changed the name of their town to MR BOOMBASTIC and drove their cars in races. Then one PENIS said “i want to kiss a vagina” so they drove to TINKLE SPRINKLES and behaved rudely in a restaurant. So outraged were the VAGINAS that they erected a gigantic wagging finger in the town square and the PENISSES looked annoyed but stopped doing it anyway. Then it became known that younger PENISSES and VAGINAS were meeting in a place called LOVE/SEX GULCH and the older folk were so outraged that they joined forces to stop it – but sharing a seat in the bus, some of the older PENISSES and VAGINAS fell in love and when they got there someone said “look we are all getting along” and everyone celebrated Christmas together that year.
Love will always find a way.
Well, I certainly stopped entertaining myself some time ago, so I’ll leave you all be.
The town had a lucky bronze statue of a horse ridden by a general. In some parts of town people lived in filth, social deprivation, and rutted like pigs in SWILL, GIN and ANTI-DEPRESSANTS. One night, when fuck-faced on DIAMOND WHITE, GIN, and CRACK, someone chopped the statue’s head-off with a sign they’d stolen from outside a Chinese takeaway. The next day, at a last minute news conference, hastily assembled journalists waited for the LOCAL COUNCILLORS to assemble for a speech. When everyone had settled down, and the speech began, some rake at the back of the room shouted “the general’s a bit hoarseâ€, which caused no end of laughter!
There’s humour at the worst of times.
Michael was not a rich man. He lived alone in a shabby house with his mongrel Martine. One day Michael fell in love. Michael knew that he would never be able to impress his new-found love with wealth and so he decided to woo her with the one skill he did have – his delicious cooking. Michael took out his only tattered cookery book and decided to make the most extravagant dish he could find. He settled on a rack of lamb. He spent every last penny that he had on ingredients and enthusiastically set about cooking. However, he soon realized that he had forgotten to by HERBS and he hadn’t got a penny left. After a good half hour of racking his brain he suddenly came up with a solution to his problems. He whistled to Martine and she came trotting into the kitchen. He then took out 2 old bottles of WINE that he had been saving and proceeded to pour them all over his pet. He then placed the lamb on the floor and looked on happily as Martine shook herself dry spraying the wine over the meat. An hour in the oven and the lamb came out PERFECTLY. Michael’s date told him it was the best meal she had ever tasted and fell in love INSTANTLY.
And the moral of the tale is…a bitch in wine saves thyme.
Once there was a great tower, coloured as the rose yet infinitely more beautiful. It reached for the heavens as a child reaches, in it’s innocence, for the moon.
No one person had ever lived in such opulance, seen the world to it’s horizon in all directions or strived to live among the stars until that moment.
One man owned all of this splendour and was the object of great jealousy by everyone who lived in the towers great shadow.
That owner looked down upon the tiny dots on the ground and felt the superiority swelling in his breast. He knew that he would kill to keep his tower.
For years the people around the base grew angrier and angrier and more and more jealous of the man in the high tower. Eventually, a voice, nobody is sure who, suggested that the tower must belong to them. It whipped up a storm, played upon the crowds darkest emotions and gathered a screaming army of men. They stormed the towers gates, swarming up the steps. They knew that they would kill to take the tower.
They climbed and climbed and climbed and climbed. Then they climbed some more. Many days it took to reach the top and there they found a great golden door.
One man stepped forward and banged upon it.
“Open this door! We demand you share this beautiful tower! We are tired of living only in it’s shadow, we demand that we share in the light also!”
There was no answer.
Banging once again he demanded “Open this door! We demand it!”
There was a creak as the great portal opened.
A great hammer cam smashing down upon the speakers head, spraying brain and bone into the crowd. They screamed as one and rushed forward. In a fight that lasted two months the hammer wielder rained down weighty steel death upon the unfortunate souls. Every last man was left dead, mangled into shapes before unseen and twisted into unnatural masses. The only man left standing was the owner of the tower caked in blood, holding his hammer aloft. Like a grinning demon, he had retained is tower, and won a great battle.
He dropped dead, having forgotten to take his pills.
It’s tough at the top
or
VI@GRA AND OTHER CHEAP MEDS.RX ARE ESSENTIAL IF YOU WANT TO KEEP YOUR ERECTION