The Jokes Thread...

An out of work pianist with Tourette’s Syndrome is strolling around the streets and bars of Soho one unemployed afternoon.

Walking down Dean Street he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window ‘Pianist wanted for evening performances’.
‘F*cking get in there you c*nt!’ he says to himself and goes to the bar. ‘Get the f***ing manager of this pig shit middle class wank hole please… you c*nt’, he says to a somewhat startled barman. The barman however obliges, and his manager comes upstairs. ‘Can I help you sir?’ he says
‘Yes you can you fat piece of shit, I saw your poxy advert in the c*ntting window and I’m here to audition…..w****r!.’

The manager is naturally put off by the man’s abrasive manner but his dire need for a top-class pianist forces him to agree to an audition.
The first tune the Pianist plays is an uplifting jazzy number, not too involving, yet utterly melodic. At the end the thrilled barman cries, ‘Wonderful, wonderful. What was that called?’
‘That song was called “Excuse me prime minister but I just f*cked your daughter, and now the bitch is blind…’
‘Oh’ says the manager ‘err, can you play me another. Something a little less “lively”.
‘w****r..’ interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad which leaves the manager in tears. The manager through his salty teardrops asks him the title.
‘That little number was called “Sometimes when you do a bird up the arse you get shit on your bell-end.’
I see’ says the manager, ‘Have you got any songs with less offensive titles?’
‘Well there’s my jazz number “Do you want me to split your ring hole”, or there’s the epic “I don’t care if you’re older my dear, you’ve still got nice tits”.
‘Look’ says the manager interrupting, I think you’re a superb pianist but the title of your songs are a little “racy”. I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.’
‘F*ck it’ says the pianist ‘Why not’. On his first night everything is going superbly the crowd are lapping up his repertoire and his silence is being received as modesty.

The only thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a gorgeous blonde in a black evening dress with a split up the side revealing the tops of her stockings, and a plunging neckline which boasts a proud and inviting cleavage.

During the interval the pianist has got such an impressive ‘swelling’ that he decides to go to the bog and polish one off, to ‘relax himself’. Just as he has ‘relinquished’ he hears himself being re-introduced over the P.A, so he rushes back to the stage and finishes his act.

After the show he is at the bar relaxing when the blonde approaches him.
‘Hi’ she says.
‘Hello’ he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives.
She leans over and whispers in his ear, ‘Do you know your penis is hanging out of your trousers, and spunk is dribbling onto your shoes?’
‘Know it?’ says the pianist putting his beer on the bar confidently.....





"I f***ing well wrote it!!!"
 
An out of work pianist with Tourette’s Syndrome is strolling around the streets and bars of Soho one unemployed afternoon.

Walking down Dean Street he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window ‘Pianist wanted for evening performances’.
‘F*cking get in there you c*nt!’ he says to himself and goes to the bar. ‘Get the f***ing manager of this pig shit middle class wank hole please… you c*nt’, he says to a somewhat startled barman. The barman however obliges, and his manager comes upstairs. ‘Can I help you sir?’ he says
‘Yes you can you fat piece of shit, I saw your poxy advert in the c*ntting window and I’m here to audition…..w****r!.’

The manager is naturally put off by the man’s abrasive manner but his dire need for a top-class pianist forces him to agree to an audition.
The first tune the Pianist plays is an uplifting jazzy number, not too involving, yet utterly melodic. At the end the thrilled barman cries, ‘Wonderful, wonderful. What was that called?’
‘That song was called “Excuse me prime minister but I just f*cked your daughter, and now the bitch is blind…’
‘Oh’ says the manager ‘err, can you play me another. Something a little less “lively”.
‘w****r..’ interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad which leaves the manager in tears. The manager through his salty teardrops asks him the title.
‘That little number was called “Sometimes when you do a bird up the arse you get shit on your bell-end.’
I see’ says the manager, ‘Have you got any songs with less offensive titles?’
‘Well there’s my jazz number “Do you want me to split your ring hole”, or there’s the epic “I don’t care if you’re older my dear, you’ve still got nice tits”.
‘Look’ says the manager interrupting, I think you’re a superb pianist but the title of your songs are a little “racy”. I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.’
‘F*ck it’ says the pianist ‘Why not’. On his first night everything is going superbly the crowd are lapping up his repertoire and his silence is being received as modesty.

The only thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a gorgeous blonde in a black evening dress with a split up the side revealing the tops of her stockings, and a plunging neckline which boasts a proud and inviting cleavage.

During the interval the pianist has got such an impressive ‘swelling’ that he decides to go to the bog and polish one off, to ‘relax himself’. Just as he has ‘relinquished’ he hears himself being re-introduced over the P.A, so he rushes back to the stage and finishes his act.

After the show he is at the bar relaxing when the blonde approaches him.
‘Hi’ she says.
‘Hello’ he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives.
She leans over and whispers in his ear, ‘Do you know your penis is hanging out of your trousers, and spunk is dribbling onto your shoes?’
‘Know it?’ says the pianist putting his beer on the bar confidently.....





"I f***ing well wrote it!!!"
I think you've just broken my all-time junior-school swear-athon record there. :)
 
An out of work pianist with Tourette’s Syndrome is strolling around the streets and bars of Soho one unemployed afternoon.

Walking down Dean Street he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window ‘Pianist wanted for evening performances’.
‘F*cking get in there you c*nt!’ he says to himself and goes to the bar. ‘Get the f***ing manager of this pig shit middle class wank hole please… you c*nt’, he says to a somewhat startled barman. The barman however obliges, and his manager comes upstairs. ‘Can I help you sir?’ he says
‘Yes you can you fat piece of shit, I saw your poxy advert in the c*ntting window and I’m here to audition…..w****r!.’

The manager is naturally put off by the man’s abrasive manner but his dire need for a top-class pianist forces him to agree to an audition.
The first tune the Pianist plays is an uplifting jazzy number, not too involving, yet utterly melodic. At the end the thrilled barman cries, ‘Wonderful, wonderful. What was that called?’
‘That song was called “Excuse me prime minister but I just f*cked your daughter, and now the bitch is blind…’
‘Oh’ says the manager ‘err, can you play me another. Something a little less “lively”.
‘w****r..’ interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad which leaves the manager in tears. The manager through his salty teardrops asks him the title.
‘That little number was called “Sometimes when you do a bird up the arse you get shit on your bell-end.’
I see’ says the manager, ‘Have you got any songs with less offensive titles?’
‘Well there’s my jazz number “Do you want me to split your ring hole”, or there’s the epic “I don’t care if you’re older my dear, you’ve still got nice tits”.
‘Look’ says the manager interrupting, I think you’re a superb pianist but the title of your songs are a little “racy”. I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.’
‘F*ck it’ says the pianist ‘Why not’. On his first night everything is going superbly the crowd are lapping up his repertoire and his silence is being received as modesty.

The only thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a gorgeous blonde in a black evening dress with a split up the side revealing the tops of her stockings, and a plunging neckline which boasts a proud and inviting cleavage.

During the interval the pianist has got such an impressive ‘swelling’ that he decides to go to the bog and polish one off, to ‘relax himself’. Just as he has ‘relinquished’ he hears himself being re-introduced over the P.A, so he rushes back to the stage and finishes his act.

After the show he is at the bar relaxing when the blonde approaches him.
‘Hi’ she says.
‘Hello’ he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives.
She leans over and whispers in his ear, ‘Do you know your penis is hanging out of your trousers, and spunk is dribbling onto your shoes?’
‘Know it?’ says the pianist putting his beer on the bar confidently.....





"I f***ing well wrote it!!!"
Set me up for the day that one:slow rofl:
 
Apologies for another long joke, it's the way I tell 'em.

One for the older generation.

A young man was due to go on stage for the epic TV show from the 80’s/90’s, “Stars in their eyes”
He walks onto the stage to a rapturous applause and then to be greeted by the hirsute host, Matthew Kelly.
Matthew greets then young lad and asks him to introduce himself.
“Hi, my name is Simon, I’m 22 and herald from the thriving metropolis of Milton Keynes”

Once the pleasantries are over, Matthew Kelly asks who he is going to be tonight.

Young Simon retorts, “Before I tell you and the audience who I shall be impersonating tonight, can I tell you of a devastating accident that happened to myself?"
Matthew, somewhat taken aback by the young man’s request, seeks the floor managers approval, he gets the nod and tells Simon to fill his proverbial boots.

Simon, somewhat a little shaken and upset begins to regale his sorrowful account.
“Well Matthew, approx. 3 years ago, I partook in a family holiday to the wonderful continent of Africa, whilst there, myself and my uncle decided to go a safari, and this is where events took a turn for the worse”

The audience are gripped, Matthew is gripped, the atmosphere was at its least, intense.

Simon carries on, “We got separated from the main party and became lost in the savannah, we were attempting to retrace our tracks, when all of sudden, in the clearing, a pride of lions appeared, we stood there, frozen in fear, praying for a miracle”

The gasps were clearly audible from the audience.

“The miracle never happened, without warning, the lions started to attack me and my uncle, I could hear the screams from my uncle, yet I was helpless, I then blacked out through the pain”
Simon is visibly upset, some of the audience are in tears, Matthew is visibly shaken by his story, Simon manages to compose himself and carries on telling the story.

“Once I had blacked out, I couldn’t remember anything, the next thing I knew is that I awoke in a mud hut, surrounded by the local tribe with their Shaman stood over me, chanting, I passed out again through the pain, this happened over the space of 4 to 5 days until I gained full consciousness”
“I asked of the whereabouts of my Uncle but they wouldn’t tell me of his fate, I guessed by their silence that he had succumb to his injuries from the lion attack”

More gasps of amazement followed, tears were flowing freely, even the most hardened of man was reduced to at least a trembling bottom lip.

Simon carries on, “It then transpired that the during the attack, I lost my left arm, right hand, left leg and my right ear but the local witchdoctor used my deceased uncle's limbs and ear to replace the ones I lost, and here I am to tell the tale”

The audience are on their feet, the ovation carries on for at least 2 minutes.

Matthew Kelly hugs him and thanked him for being so brave in narrating the terrible tragedy that was bestowed upon his family.
“So, who are you going to be tonight?” asks Matthew.










“Tonight, Matthew, I am going to be……..Simon and Half Uncle”
 
Fantastic build up… put the punchline….. hang your head in shame!

Meanwhile I asked my wife if she wants a weekend in Greece. Told her we could use baby oil.
 
Fantastic build up… put the punchline….. hang your head in shame!

Meanwhile I asked my wife if she wants a weekend in Greece. Told her we could use baby oil.
I think that's what they call an audio gag.
 
She was standing in the kitchen
Preparing to boiled eggs for breakfast,
wearing only the 'T' shirt that she normally slept in.

As I walked in almost awake,
She turned and said softly,
'You've got to make love to me this very moment.'

My eyes lit up and I thought,
'I am either still dreaming or
this is going to be my lucky day.'

Not wanting to lose the moment,
I embraced her and then gave it my all;
right there on the kitchen table.

Afterwards she said,
'Thanks,'
and returned to the stove, her 'T' shirt
still around her neck.

A little puzzled, I asked,
'What was that all about?'

She explained . . . 'The egg timer is broken'
 
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