The Funeral....

                                         

Eavesdropping is a wonderful pastime. In my local pub, The Pit Bull & Stanley Knife, I overheard Barmy Albert and Non-Stick Nora’s conversations become increasingly surreal. She sez to him the other day: “I keep seeing spots before my eyes.” Albert asked her if she’d seen a doctor. She replied: “No. Only spots....” Then yesterday, Albert asked her if she liked Tolstoy. She wholeheartedly agreed that she did. When Albert pressed her on which story was her favourite, she curtly informed him: “The one where Woody is kidnapped and Buzz desperately tries to save him!”

My mate Dave’s funeral was a disaster! The hearse and cortege turned up late. At first, it went to the wrong church. It then proceeded the long way round to the crematorium. The funeral director got everything all mixed up in the service. But Dave was a taxi driver and it’s what he would have wanted!

There was a spotty precocious youth sat on the back pew in the church at Dave’s funeral. He was talking into his iPhone, bemoaning the fact that 'funerals were boring' and 'there's no flamin’wifi in this church', when the priest approached him and proclaimed:" You are an ignorant imbecile, show some respect!" The scrote gazed at the priest and asked: "Is that all lower case, mate?"


My Sat-Nav has stopped speaking to me. It’s sent me to Coventry. They’ve brought a new Sat-Nav out now for octogenarians. When you get to where you’re going, it tells you what you what you went for! You can download different voices too. I downloaded Bonny Tyler. Now it keeps telling me to turn around and every now and then, it falls apart.

I was at the airport, checking in at the checking-in thingy, when the girl behind the desk sez, ‘Has anyone put anything in your baggage without your knowledge?’ To which I replied, ‘If it was without my knowledge, then how would I know?’ She smiled knowingly and nodded, ‘That’s why we ask.’ What’s all that about then?

Thought for Thursday: Do you reckon that “expecting the unexpected” means that the unexpected is actually expected?

Another Thursday Thought: Words can't describe how beautiful you are but numbers can. 3/10

I stepped back in amazement and the fella behind me stepped back further because he was amazed at how far back I'd stepped, primarily because I was exasperated with the same old boring jokes that are still being circulated around the pub and at work? I’m sure you are. But no, not me. No sirree! I like the same old boring jokes and that's why I print them right here in this gloppy humour column every available chance I get. Accept me for what I am; completely unacceptable. Click on my joke blog: www.ComedianUK.com or better still email me: comedianuk@sky.com Oh, and If your phone didn’t ring yesterday, then it was me! See you in the autumn folks! Start the car!


                             

The Bid.....

Last Saturday night was described as ‘The 62nd Eurovision Song Contest’. Well, they’re absolute liars, because it went on for hours and hours and hours!

However, my Eurovision top six prediction was:
1st - Portugal
2nd - Italy
3rd - Bulgaria
4th - Arsenal
5th - Ukraine
6th - Man Utd

Does anyone know how to cancel an eBay bid? I bid three quid on a cowboy outfit and now I’m just two days away from owning the Labour Party. What manner of mugwumpery is this?

                                 

All the members of the company's board of directors were called into the chairman's office, one after another, until only Barmy Albert, the junior member, was left sitting outside. Finally it was his turn to be summoned. Albert entered the office to find the chairman and the other four directors seated at the far end of the boardroom table. Albert was instructed to stand at the other end of the table, which he dutifully did. The chairman looked Albert squarely in the eye, and with a stern voice, he asked, "Have you ever conducted any hanky-panky with my secretary, Miss Faversham in the stationery cupboard?" "Oh no, sir, positively not!" Albert replied. "Are you absolutely 100% certain?" asked the chairman. "Honest, I've never been close enough to even touch her!" "You'd swear to that?" "Yes, I swear I've never engaged in a spot of slap and tickle with Miss Faversham, anytime, anywhere." insisted Albert.. "Good!” The chairman replied. “Then you fire her!"
                                     

A drunken bloke staggers into the church, enters a confessional booth, sits down, but sez nothing. The Priest coughs a few times to get his attention but the drunk continues to sit there. Finally, the Priest pounds three times on the wall. The drunk mumbles, "Ain't no use knockin', there's no paper on this side either!"


                                           

The missus (I call her ‘Viking’, because she has a face like a Norse!) and I were invited to a fancy dress party and we both went as bank robbers. We had a wonderful evening. Well I did. She was sat outside in the car, all night, with the engine running!

                                 

                                     

I asked my next door neighbour why he had number thirty nine painted on his wheelie bin when he actually lives at number three. "It's so the bin men will leave it near my house after they have emptied it," he replied.

                               

I heard on the grapevine that Non-Stick Nora got a ladder in her tights on a recent trip to
B & Q. She truly is the most talented shoplifter ever!

                                           

When I answered the phone yesterday, all I could hear was sneezing and sniffling. It transpired to be one of those cold callers again. Folk who are taken in by these rogues are so stupid. They are the type of people that believe the earth is flat. Utter morons. There are hills on it and everything.


                                                 

This humour column may exacerbate chronic halitosis, mental aberration, repetitive spasmodic squinting. Inflamed haemorrhoids could hang down lower than a beggars cap. It will enhance Joggers Nipple, Strapadichtomy, Tourettes and Varicose Brain Syndrome. For further jocular clarification, why not visit my website. Just clickety-click on www.ComedianUK.com. You can also email me: comedianuk@sky.com Now, get back to work!

                                           

The Feng-Shui.....

                                            

Come June 8th, I’m going to vote for Rick Astley. Why? Because, he would never give you up, let you down, run around or desert you. Moreover, he would never make you cry, say goodbye, tell a lie or hurt you. If only all politicians had these standards!

                                                    

Barmy Albert bought Non-Stick Nora a beautiful diamond ring for her birthday. I sez, "I thought she wanted one of them there sporty, 4 x 4 wheel drive Range Rovers?" Albert replies, "She did, but where was I going to find a fake Range Rover Evoque?"

                                             

I’m getting into the Feng Shui lark. It’s all to do with your yings and your yangs, which to the layman, are positive and negative influences and all that manner of magnetictic activity in the ether and beyond. I suppose that you would never consider that a couch potato like me would study an ancient art like Feng-Shui, but dear reader, you would be wrong. If you pop round to my house, you would notice that all the chairs face the telly! My house is also near a pub and a betting shop, so this constitutes perfect harmony. Geomagnetism is basic components of Feng Shui. Proponents claim that feng shui has an effect on health, wealth, and personal relationships. This is where the pub and the betting shop come in.

                                               

I don't like selfish people. I saw this bloke pushing over forty-odd trolleys at Tesco this morning. Really! Don’t you think someone else might want one?!

                                                       

A mother finds a magazine under her son’s bed while cleaning his room. It’s all about spanking & sado-masochism. Understandably disturbed, she immediately shows the magazine to her husband. "Well?" his wife asks. "What do you think we should do?""I’m not sure," replies the father. "But we shouldn’t be giving him a good hiding, that’s for sure!"


                                                 

I can remember my mum tucking me in when I was younger. It was then I realised she really wanted a girl.

                                                  

I got the missus a bag of B & Q Multi-Purpose compost for her birthday. She went mad and chucked it at me. Typical woman. Give 'em the earth and they throw it in your face...


                                                   

A university student delivers a pizza to an old man’s house. "I suppose you want a tip?" says the old man. "That would be great," says the student, "but the other guy who does deliveries told me not to expect too much – he said if I got 50p, I’d be lucky."
The old man looks hurt. "Well, to prove him wrong, here’s £5. What are you studying?"
"Applied psychology," replies the student.

                                      

If I could offer you some advice for the future: Dance like you are mortally injured. Make love like your being filmed and you need the money. Work when people are watching. Dress up in Lycra. Always leave a false name. Be legendary. Believe in Karma.If at first you don’t succeed, then redefine success. Visit my website http://www.ComedianUK.com and continue the quest! Email me:comedianuk@sky.com


                                              

The Mugwump....

                                    

With regard to all the political pontification in the media. I've conducted a poll and  Conservatively speaking and not wishing to Labour a point, a Liberal position has to be taken, unless you venture up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire and UKIP through all this hard Brexit gubbins. My advice? Vote for Mugwump. You’ll get one anyway!

                                       

While watching the latest Star Wars movie recently, I couldn’t hear the dialogue over the chatter of the two women sitting in front of me. Unable to bear it any longer, I tapped one of them on the shoulder. "Excuse me," I said, "I can’t hear." "I should hope not," she replied sharply. "This is a private conversation." May the fourth be with you, folks!

                                  

A bloke on his Harley was riding along Blackpool promenade, when suddenly the sky clouded above his head and, in a booming voice, God spaketh, "Because you have tried to be faithful to me, in all ways, I will grant you one wish.” The biker pulled over and said, "Build a bridge from here to the Isle of Man, so I can ride over easily and watch the TT races." God replied, "Your request is materialistic; think of the enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking; the supports required reaching the bottom of the ocean and the concrete and steel it would take! I can do it, but it is hard for me to justify your desire for worldly things. Take a little more time and think of something that could possibly help mankind." The biker thought about it for a long time. Finally, he said, "God, I wish that I, and all men, could understand women. I want to know how she feels inside, what she's thinking when she gives me the silent treatment, why she cries, what she means when she says nothing's wrong, why she snaps and complains when I try to help, and how I can make a woman truly happy." God replied: "You want two lanes or four on that bridge?"


                                   

Passengers on the train were chortling, because some crazy bloke was constantly calling out for his mummy in his sleep. I wish I'd seen it, but I was taking a nap at the time.

                                      

This bloke stopped me in his car on the High Street and sez, “Can you help me? I'm looking for a rubbish tip.” I replied, “Sunderland to win the Premiership, mate.”
                                       

Thought for Thursday: Don’t try to make a square very quickly, because you’ll end up with an octagon. This is what happens when you cut corners!




                                                       

I was making every endeavour to attempt to eschew obfuscation via the utilisation of sesquipedalian terminology, however, it has since emerged that I am a perpetrator of terminological inexactitudes and this will merely serve to compound an already unfortunate farrago. So visit my all new Jokey-Bloggington and continue the quest! Just clickety-click on www.ComedianUK.com You can email me too! comedianuk@sky.com   Now, assume a comical position and strike the pose!