Charlie walks into his bedroom with a sheep under his arm and says: 'Darling, this is the pig I have sex with when you have a headache.' His wife is lying in bed and replies: 'I think you'll find that's a sheep, you idiot.' The man says: 'I think you'll find that I wasn't talking to you.
The Smiths were unable to conceive children and decided to use a surrogate father to start their family. On the day the proxy father was to arrive, Mr. Smith kissed his wife goodbye and said, "Well, I'm off now. The man should be here soon.." Half an hour later, just by chance, a door-to-door baby photographer happened to ring the doorbell, hoping to make a sale. "Good morning, Ma'am", he said, "I've come to..." "Oh, no need to explain," Mrs. Smith cut in, embarrassed, "I've been expecting you." "Have you really?" said the photographer. "Well, that's good. Did you know babies are my specialty?" "Well that's what my husband and I had hoped. Please come in and have a seat". After a moment she asked, blushing, "Well, where do we start?" "Leave everything to me. I usually try two in the bathtub, one on the couch, and perhaps a couple on the bed. And sometimes the living room floor is fun. You can really spread out there." "Bathtub, living room floor? No wonder it didn't work out for Harry and me!" "Well, Ma'am, none of us can guarantee a good one every time. But if we try several different positions and I shoot from six or seven angles, I'm sure you'll be pleased with the results." "My, that's a lot!", gasped Mrs. Smith. "Ma'am, in my line of work a man has to take his time. I'd love to be In and out in five minutes, but I'm sure you'd be disappointed with that." "Don't I know it," said Mrs. Smith quietly. The photographer opened his briefcase and pulled out a portfolio of his baby pictures. "This was done on the top of a bus," he said. "Oh, my God!" Mrs. Smith exclaimed, grasping at her throat. "And these twins turned out exceptionally well - when you consider their mother was so difficult to work with." "She was difficult?" asked Mrs. Smith. "Yes, I'm afraid so. I finally had to take her to the park to get the job done right. People were crowding around four and five deep to get a good look" "Four and five deep?" said Mrs. Smith, her eyes wide with amazement. "Yes", the photographer replied. "And for more than three hours, too. The mother was constantly squealing and yelling - I could hardly concentrate, and when darkness approached I had to rush my shots. Finally, when the squirrels began nibbling on my equipment, I just had to pack it all in." Mrs. Smith leaned forward. "Do you mean they actually chewed on your, uh...equipment?" "It's true, Ma'am, yes. Well, if you're ready, I'll set-up my tripod and we can get to work right away." "Tripod?" "Oh yes, Ma'am. I need to use a tripod to rest my Canon on. It's much too big to be held in the hand very long." Mrs. Smith fainted.
Jimmy MacDonald went along to his Catholic church one Sunday afternoon and placed himself in the Confessional box. The priest, already sitting in his half, opened the shutter. “What is it, my son?” “Forgive me, father”, started Jimmy, “for I have sinned. I went with a loose woman last night.” “Is that young Jimmy MacDonald?“ asked the priest. “Yes, father, it is”. “Who was the girl you were with, Jimmy?” “I shouldn’t tell you, father. I don’t want to ruin her reputation.” ”In order to absolve you, you will have to confess the full details of your transgression. What was the girl’s name? Was it Agnes Wallace?” asked the father. “I don’t think I should tell you, father.” “I’ll find out, sooner or later, so you might as well tell me now. Was it Jean Menzies?” “I won’t tell you, father.” “Was it Kirstie Robertson?” “My lips are sealed, father” “Was it Moira Kennedy?” “I cannot say, father.” “Was it Gail Scott?” “You’re wasting your time, father, I don’t want to say.” “Very well, Jimmy. I do admire you protecting the girl, but nonetheless, you have sinned and you must atone for this. You can no longer be an altar boy until after Christmas. Now, go home and behave yourself.” “Thank you, father” and Jimmy got up and returned to the pew. His pal, Archie Soutar, slid over and whispered “Well, how did you get on?” “Brilliant”, answered Jimmy, “four months holiday and five good leads!”
A man was leaving a convenience store with his morning coffee when he noticed a most unusual funeral procession approaching the nearby cemetery. A long black hearse was followed by a second long black hearse about 50 feet behind the first one. Behind the second hearse was a solitary man walking a dog on a leash. Behind him, a short distance back, were about 200 men walking single file. The man couldn’t stand the curiosity. He respectfully approached the man walking the dog and said, “I am so sorry for your loss, and I know now is a bad time to disturb you, but I’ve never seen a funeral like this. Whose funeral is it?” “My wife’s.” “What happened to her?” The man replied, “My dog attacked and killed her.” He inquired further, “But who is in the second hearse?” The man answered, “My mother-in-law. She was trying to help my wife when the dog turned on her.” A poignant and thoughtful moment of silence passed between the two men. “Can I borrow the dog?” “Get in line.”
Remember I was asking (asking? Pleading, more like!) for an M400 Mellotron? Well.....
