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Sunday, 6 March 2016
I invited a mate back home for dinner. The missus screamed, "I've not done my hair, not done my make-up, I ain’t done any housework, not done the dishes and I can't be bothered with cooking! What the Hell did you bring him back here for?" I sez, "Because he's thinking of getting married."
I went into Wetherspoons: I sez “Do you do cash back?” The barman replied, “Yes, we do.”
I sez, “Well give us the £50 I spent in here yesterday, because the missus is going flamin’ mental!”
Many moons ago, I once met this girl and took her home to meet my parents. My dad whispered to me, "Where the hell did you find her? She's cross eyed, bald, bow legged and she's got no teeth." I said, "There's no need to whisper Dad, she's deaf as well!"
After an enjoyable day sight-seeing in London, Barmy Albert and Non-Stick Nora settled down on the train from Euston, their destination being Manchester, when the bloke sitting opposite him hauled out his Apple iPhone 6S and started up:- "Hi darling it's Peter, I'm on the train - yes, I know it's the 6.30 not the 4.30 but I had a long meeting - no, not with that floozie from the typing pool, with the boss - no darling you're the only one in my life - yes, I'm sure, cross my heart" etc., etc. This banal exchange was still going on at Stoke-on-Trent, when Non-Stick Nora, at the end of her tether and driven beyond endurance, yelled at the top of her voice, “Hey, Peter, turn that flamin’ phone off and come back to bed!”
I was waylaid on the High Street today by one of those wretched market researchers. She asked if I had time to answer ten quick questions. I was in a benevolent mood, so I agreed. She asked me: "Okay, question number one, do you ever suffer from sudden blackouts?" I replied "Nope". Then she sez, "And finally question ten......"
I did a gig at an old folk’s home. They were a tough crowd. They wouldn’t even answer my "Knock, Knock" jokes until I showed them some I.D.
My neighbour's husband has snuffed it. I took her down to the local newspaper office for her to put a notice in the obituaries section. She is short of money and just wanted to keep it brief, 'Fred is dead.' However, it turns out you can have six words for a fiver. Bargain! She put, 'Fred is dead. Volvo for sale.'
Wit is often a mask. If you could peer behind its gossamer façade, you would find either genius irritated or cleverness wriggling. That’s why you should never let your mind wander. Summat that small shouldn’t be out on its own. Nurse, fetch the screens! Visit my website www.ComedianUK.com or email me: firstname.lastname@example.org. Now, assume a comical position, and then strike the pose!
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