Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Cracking Breasts

A Scotsman walking down the street sees a woman with absolutely perfect breasts. He approaches her and asks, "Lassy, would ye let me bite yer breasts for £100?"

"Are you mad?!" she replies, and keeps walking.

He turns, runs around the block and gets to the corner before she does. "Would ye let me bite yer breasts for £1,000?", he asks.

"Listen, I'm not that kind of woman! Got it?", she responds.

So the Scotsman runs around the next block and faces her again. "Would ye let me bite yer breasts just once for £10,000?"

She thinks about it for a moment and says, "Hmm, £10,000. Alright, just once but not here. Let's go to that alley over there."

So they enter the alley, where she removes her blouse to reveal her perfect breasts.

As soon as he sees them, the Scotsman grabs them, starts caressing them, fondling them slowly, kissing them, licking them, burying his face between them, but does not bite them.

The woman finally gets annoyed and asks, "Well? Are you going to bite them or not?"

"Nah", says the Scotsman. "Costs too much."

Monday, April 26, 2010

Survey Says

Last month a world survey was conducted by the UN. The only question asked was:

"Would you please give your honest opinion about solutions to the food shortage in the rest of the world?"

The survey was a HUGE failure because of the following:
  1. In Eastern Europe they didn't know what "honest" meant.
  2. In Western Europe they didn't know what "shortage" meant.
  3. In Africa they didn't know what "food" meant.
  4. In China they didn't know what "opinion" meant.
  5. In the Middle East they didn't know what "solution" meant.
  6. In South America they didn't know what "please" meant.
  7. In the USA they didn't know what "the rest of the world" meant.
  8. In Australia they hung up as soon as they heard the Indian accent.

Monday, April 19, 2010

St Patrick: Patron Saint of Alcoholics

Paddy had been drinking at his local Dublin pub all day and most of the night celebrating St Patrick's Day. Mick, the bartender says, "You'll not be drinking anymore tonight, Paddy".

Paddy replies, "OK Mick, I'll be on me way then".

Paddy spins around on his stool and steps off. He falls flat on his face. "Shite", he says and pulls himself up by the stool and dusts himself off. He takes a step towards the door and falls flat on his face, "Shite, Shite!"

He looks to the doorway and thinks to himself that if he can just get to the door and some fresh air he'll be fine. He belly crawls to the door and shimmies up to the door frame. He sticks his head outside and takes a deep breath of fresh air, feels much better and takes a step out onto the side-walk, and falls flat on his face again.

"Be Jaysus... I'm feckin' fecked," he says.

He can see his house just a few doors down, and crawls to the door, hauls himself up the door frame, opens the door and shimmies inside. He takes a look up the stairs and says "No feckin' way". He crawls up the stairs to his bedroom door and says "I can make it to the bed". He takes a step into the room and falls flat on his face. He says "Feck it" and drags himself into bed.

The next morning, his wife, Jess, comes into the room carrying a cup of coffee and says, "Get up Paddy. Did you have a bit to drink last night?"

Paddy says, "I did, Jess. I was feckin' pissed. But how'd you know?"

"Mick phoned...

You left your wheelchair at the pub."