Today’s funny Thursday 1st August 2013

At a world brewing convention in the States, the CEO's of various brewing organizations retired to the bar at the end of the day's conference.

Bruce, CEO of Fosters, shouted to the barman: "In 'straylya, we make the best bladdy beer in the world, so pour me a Bladdy Fosters, mate!"

Bob, CEO of Budweiser, calls out next: "In the States, we brew the finest beers of the world, and I make the King of them all, gimme a Budweiser!"

Hans steps up next: "In Germany ve invented das beer, verdammt. Give me ein Becks, ja ist der real King of beers, danke."

Paddy, CEO of Guinness, steps forward: "Barman, would ya gie me a doyet coke wid ice and lemon. Tanks."

The others stare at him in stunned silence, amazement written all over their faces.

Eventually Bruce asks: "Are you not going to have a Guinness, Pat?"

Paddy replies: "Well, if ya fookin'pansies arent drinkin', then neither am I"

Today’s funny Friday 5th July 2013

Voted best Irish joke of 2005! 

John O’Reilly hoisted his beer and said, “Here’s to spending the rest of me life, between the legs of me wife!” 

That won him the top prize at the pub for the best toast of the night!

He went home and told his wife, Mary, “I won the prize for the Best toast of the night”

She said, “Aye, did ye now. And what was your toast?”

John said, “Here’s to spending the rest of me life, sitting in church beside me wife.”

“Oh, that is very nice indeed, John!” Mary said.

The next day, Mary ran into one of John’s drinking buddies on the street corner. The man chuckled leeringly and said, “John won the prize the other night at the pub with a toast about you, Mary.”

She said, “Aye, he told me, and I was a bit surprised myself. You know, he’s only been there twice in the last four years. Once he fell asleep, and the other time I had to pull him by the ears to make him come.”


Today’s funny Thursday 4th July 2013

New Words for 2013

* SALAD DODGER. An excellent phrase for an overweight person.

* SWAMP-DONKEY. A deeply unattractive person.

* TESTICULATING.  Waving your arms around and talking bollocks.

* BLAMESTORMING.  Sitting round in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or  a project failed, and who was responsible.

* SEAGULL MANAGER.  A manager who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.

* SALMON DAY.  The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die.

CUBE FARM. An office filled with cubicles.

* PRAIRIE DOGGING: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a cube farm, and people’s heads pop up over the walls to see what’s going on.  (This also applies to applause for a promotion because there may be cake.)

*  SINBAD.    Single working girls. Single income, no boyfriend and desperate.

* AEROPLANE BLONDE.    One who has bleached/dyed her hair but still has a ‘black box’.

* PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE. The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.

* AUSSIE KISS.    Similar to a French Kiss, but given down under.

* OH – NO SECOND.    That minuscule fraction of time in which you realize that you’ve just made a BIG mistake (e.g. you’ve hit ‘reply all’).

* GREYHOUND.   A very short skirt, only an inch from the hare.

* JOHNNY-NO-STARS.  A young man of substandard intelligence, the typical adolescent who works in a burger restaurant. The ‘no-stars’ comes from the badges displaying stars that staff at fast-food restaurants often wear to show their level of training.

* MILLENNIUM DOMES: The contents of a Wonderbra, i.e. extremely impressive when viewed from the outside, but there’s actually naught in there worth seeing.

* MONKEY BATH : A bath so hot, that when lowering yourself in, you go: ‘Oo! Oo! Oo! Aa! Aa! Aa!’.

* MYSTERY BUS:   The bus that arrives at the pub on Friday night while you’re in the toilet after your 10th pint, and whisks away all the unattractive people so the pub is suddenly packed with stunners when you come back in.

* MYSTERY TAXI: The taxi that arrives at your place on Saturday morning before you wake up, whisks away the stunner you slept with, and leaves a 10-Pinter in your bed instead.

* BEER COAT: The invisible but warm coat worn when walking home after a booze cruise at 3:00am .

* BEER COMPASS : The invisible device that ensures your safe arrival home after booze cruise, even though you’re too drunk to remember where you live, how you got here, and where you’ve come from.

BREAKING THE SEAL:  Your first pee in the pub, usually after 2 hours of drinking. After breaking the seal of your bladder, repeat visits to the toilet will be required every 10 or 15 minutes for the rest of the night.

* TART FUEL: Bottled premixed spirits, regularly consumed by young women.

TRAMP STAMP: Tattoo on a female

PICASSO BUM: A woman whose knickers are too small for her, so she looks like she’s got 4 buttocks


Today’s funny Monday 1st July 2013

An Aussie and a Kiwi were sitting around talking one afternoon over a cold beer.
After a while the Aussie says to the Kiwi "If I was to sneak over to your house and make love to your wife while you were off fishing, and she got
pregnant and had a baby, would that make us related?
The Kiwi crooked his head sideways for a minute, scratched his head, and squinted his eyes thinking real hard about the question.
Finally, he says,  "Well, I don't know about being related, but it would make us even."


Today’s funny Tuesday 25th June 2013

Chocolate Tim Tams

An elderly Irishman lay dying in his bed.

While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite chocolate Tim Tams wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed.

Leaning against the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.

With laboured breath, he leant against the doorframe, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death’s agony, he would have thought himself already In heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite chocolate Tim Tams.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of heroic love from his devoted Irish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in a rumpled posture. His parched lips parted, the wondrous taste of the cookie was already in his mouth, seemingly bringing him back to life. The aged and withered hand trembled on its way to a cookie at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked with a spatula by his wife………


“Fuck off” she said, “they’re for your funeral.”

Today’s funny Thursday 6th June 2013

Frank:   ‘Recently, I was honoured to be selected as a judge at a Curry     Cook-off. The original person called in sick at the last moment and   I   happened to be standing there at the judge’s table asking for directions     to the Beer Garden when the call came in. I was assured by the     other two judges (Natal Indians) that the curry wouldn’t be all that spicy     and, besides,   they told me I could have free beer during the tasting,     so I accepted’.
Here   are the scorecard notes from the event:____________________________________________________________________________


Judge # 1 —   A little too heavy on the tomato. Amusing kick.
Judge # 2   — Nice smooth tomato flavour. Very mild.
Judge # 3 (Frank) — Holy shit, what the hell is this stuff? You could   remove   dried paint from your driveway. Took me two beers to put the   flames   out. I hope that’s the worst one. These people are crazy.


Judge # 1   — Smoky, with a hint of chicken. Slight chilli   tang.
Judge # 2 — Exciting BBQ flavour, needs more peppers to be taken   seriously.
Judge # 3   — Keep this out of the reach of children. I’m not   sure what I’m   supposed to taste besides pain. I had to wave off two people who wanted to give me the Heimlich manoeuvre! They had to rush in more beer
when they saw the look on my face.


Judge # 1   — Excellent firehouse curry. Great kick.
Judge # 2   — A bit salty, good use of chilli   peppers.
Judge # 3   — Call 911. I’ve located a uranium pill. My nose   feels like I have been snorting Drain Cleaner. Everyone knows the routine by   now. Get   me more beer before I ignite. Barmaid pounded me on the back,   now my backbone is   in the front part of my chest. I’m getting pissed from all the beer.


Judge # 1   — Black bean curry wit h almost no spice. Disappointing.
Judge # 2   — Hint of lime in the black beans. Good side dish   for fish or other   mild foods, not much of a curry.
Judge # 3   — I felt something scraping across my tongue, but   was unable to   taste it. Is it possible to burn out taste buds?   Shareen, the beer maid, was standing behind me with fresh refills.   That 200kg woman is starting   to look HOT…just like this nuclear waste I’m eating! Is chilli an aphrodisiac?


Judge # 1   — Meaty, strong curry. Cayenne peppers freshly ground, adding considerable kick. Very impressive.
Judge # 2   — Average beef curry, could use more tomato. Must admit the chilli peppers make a strong   statement.
Judge # 3 — My ears are ringing, sweat is pouring off my forehead and   I can no longer   focus my eyes I farted and four people behind me   needed paramedics. The contestant seemed offended when I told her that her   chilli had given me brain damage. Shareen saved my tongue from bleeding by pouring beer directly on it from the pitcher. I   wonder if   I’m burning my lips off. It really pisses me off that the other judges asked me to stop screaming. Screw them.


Judge # 1   — Thin yet bold vegetarian variety curry. Good balance of   spices and peppers.
Judge # 2   — The best yet. Aggressive use of peppers, onions,   and garlic. Superb.
Judge # 3   — My intestines are now a straight pipe filled with   gaseous, sulphuric flames. I am definitely going to shit myself if I fart and   I’m worried   it will eat through the chair. No one seems inclined to   stand behind   me except that Shareen.   Can’t   feel my   lips anymore. I need to wipe   my arse with a snow cone   ice-cream.


Judge # 1   — A mediocre curry with too much reliance on canned   peppers.
Judge # 2   — Ho hum, tastes as if the chef literally threw in a   can   of chilli peppers at the last moment. (I should take note at this   stage   that I am worried about Judge # 3. He appears to be in a bit of     distress as he is cursing uncontrollably).
Judge # 3   — You could put a grenade in my mouth, pull the pin,   and I wouldn’t   feel a thing. I’ve lost sight in one eye, and the world   sounds like   it is made of rushing water. My shirt is covered with   curry which
slid   unnoticed out of my mouth. My pants are full of lava to match my   shirt.   At least, during the autopsy, they’ll know what killed me. I’ve   decided   to stop breathing – it’s too painful. Screw   it; I’m not   getting any   oxygen anyway. If I need air I’ll just suck it in through   the 4-inch hole   in my stomach.


Judge # 1   — The perfect ending. This is a nice blend curry. Not too   bold but   spicy enough to declare its existence.
Judge # 2   — This final entry is a good, balanced curry.   Neither mild nor   hot. Sorry to see that most of it was lost when Judge   #3 farted, passed   out, fell over and pulled the curry pot down on top   of himself. Not   sure if he’s going to make it. Poor man, wonder how   he’d have reacted   to really hot curry?
Judge # 3   – No Report.



Today’s funny Tuesday 14th May 2013

Baked Beans

Once there lived a woman who had a maddening passion for baked beans. She loved them but unfortunately, they had always had a very embarrassing and somewhat lively reaction to her.

Then one day she met a man and fell in love. When it became apparent that they would marry she thought to herself, “He is such a sweet and gentle man, he would never go for this carrying on.”

She made the supreme sacrifice and gave up beans. Some months later her car broke down on the way home from work. Since she lived in the country she called her husband and told him that she would be late because she had to walk home.

On her way, she passed a small diner and the odour of the baked beans was more than she could stand. Since she still had miles to walk, she figured that she would walk off any ill effects by the time she reached home.

So, she stopped at the diner and before she knew it, she had consumed three large orders of baked beans. All the way home she putt-putted, and upon arriving home she felt reasonably sure she could control it.

Her husband seemed excited to see her and exclaimed delightedly, “Darling, I have a surprise for dinner tonight.” He then blindfolded her and led her to her chair at the table. She seated herself and just as he was about to remove the blindfold from his wife, the telephone rang. He made her promise not to touch the blindfold until he returned. He then went to answer the telephone.

The baked beans she had consumed were still affecting her and the pressure was becoming almost unbearable, so while her husband was out of the room she seized the opportunity, shifted her weight to one leg and let it go. It was not only loud, but it smelled like a fertilizer truck running over a skunk in front of pulpwood mill. She took her napkin and fanned the air around her vigorously. Then, she shifted to the other cheek and ripped three more, which reminded her of cooked cabbage. Keeping her ears tuned to the conversation in the other room, she went on like this for another ten minutes. When the telephone farewells signalled the end of her freedom, she fanned the air a few more times with her napkin, placed it on her lap and folded her hands upon it, smiling contentedly to herself. She was the picture of innocence when her husband returned.

Apologizing for taking so long, he asked her if she peeked, and she assured him that she had not. At this point, he removed the blindfold, and she was surprised! …………..

There were twelve dinner guests seated around the table to wish her a “Happy Birthday”!!!