Joke 995

Thanks to Bluebee for the cartoon.  The jokes are from an email doing the rounds.

• The difference between the Pope and your boss: the Pope only expects you to kiss his ring.
• My cooking is so bad that we pray AFTER we eat.
• A husband is someone who, after taking the trash out, gives the impression that he just cleaned the whole house.
• Some doting parents are son worshipers.
• Did Cleopatra believe in ghosts?  No, she was in denial.
• MANDATE: Two guys watching sports.
• I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in.

From the archive:

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Two elderly women were eating at a restaurant one morning.  Ethel noticed something funny about Mabel’s ear and she said, “Mabel, did you know you’ve got a suppository in your left ear?”

Mabel answered, “I have? A suppository?”  She pulled it out and stared at it.

Then she said, “Ethel, I’m glad you saw this thing.  Now I think I know where my hearing aid is.”

A frigate was sailing the seven seas when a pirate ship came over the horizon.

The captain said, “Cabin boy, get me my red shirt.”

The cabin boy brought the captain his red shirt, he wore it in battle and they defeated the pirates.

Several days later, another pirate ship was spotted off the port bow.

“Cabin boy,” said the captain, “get me my red shirt.”

They fight the pirates and are victorious again.

Once things have settled down, the cabin boy asks, “Captain, why do you always want your red shirt just before battle?”

“In case I am inflicted with a wound.  I don’t want the crew to see my injury and lose spirit,” replied the captain. 

“I see,” said the cabin boy.

Some days later, a fleet of ten pirate ships was seen making straight for them.

“Cabin boy,” the captain calls out, “bring me my brown pants.”

Joke 550

From drpsychotic.com.

LEGO Pirates #38 (Photo credit: mac_filko)

A pirate and his parrot were adrift in a lifeboat following a dramatic escape from a valiant battle.  While rummaging through the boat’s provisions, the pirate stumbled across an old lamp. Secretly hoping that a Genie would appear, he rubbed the lamp vigorously. To the amazement of the castaways, a Genie came forth.  This particular Genie, however, stated that he could only deliver one wish, not the standard three. 

Without giving any thought to the matter the pirate blurted out, “Make the entire ocean into rum!”   The Genie clapped his hands with a deafening crash, and immediately the entire sea turned into the finest rum ever sampled by mortals.  Simultaneously, the Genie vanished.

Only the gentle lapping of rum on the hull broke the stillness as the two castaways considered their circumstances. The parrot looked disgustedly at the pirate and after a tension-filled moment spoke: “Now ye’ve done it!!   We’re gonna have to pee in the boat.”

XXX

A bonus joke:

How much does it cost for a pirate to pierce his ears?

A buck an ear!   Arrrrrrrr!

XXX

And one especially for my American readers:

Did you hear about the new pirate movie?

It’s rated arrrrrrrr.

Joke 501

 

A stereotypical caricature of a pirate. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

To celebrate the fact that I have reached the halfway mark on my 101/1001 challenge to tell a joke a day (only 500 more jokes to go!), here is one of my favourites, courtesy of Janie’s Place.

Three guys were sitting in a pub getting quite drunk, when suddenly the door was thrown open and a bushy-bearded pirate hobbled in on a peg leg and made for the bar.  As he thumped past, the three took in his menacing eye patch and the gruesome hook in place of a hand and could not believe their eyes.

One of the guys whispered, “I wonder how he got that peg leg?”

Another guy added, “And that hook!”

The pirate appeared to notice them staring and whispering and glared back at them, “Arrgh!  What do ye be a-starin’ at, ye scurvy dogs?”

The first two guys sniggered into their mugs, but the third, a little more drunk then the rest called out loudly, “We were just wondering, if you were a real pirate?”

The pirate scowled, “Aye, as ye see, what of it?”

The third guy, to the horror of his buddies, called out, “Well then, Mr. Pirate.  We’ll buy you a beer if you tell us the story of how you lost your leg and hand.”

The pirate hesitated and finally agreed, “Very well, I do be havin’ a right powerful thirst an’  better yer coin than mine t’ pay fer it.”

So the pirate sat down at their table and drained half his mug in one swallow, leaned back and let out a mighty belch.  The guys all laughed and then the first one asked, “So, how did you lose your leg?”

“Well,”  said the pirate, “ye see, I were down in this ol’ swamp, buryin’ a chest o’ me finest doubloons so’s it’d be safe from me arch-nemesis, the IRS.  I went t’ step over a huge ol’ log, but it weren’t no log at all.  No, fer it were an ornery crock an it done bit clear through me leg in one foul snap of its razor sharp teeth an’ swallowed it right down.”

The guys gasped.

“I were so surprised, I dropped me trunk t’ reach fer me cutlass t’ cut that scaly beast t’ bits.  But then, I sees me trunk sinkin’ into the mud and I had t’ choose between me revenge an me booty.”

“What did you do?”  asked the first guy.

“Arg!  I be a fierce pirate, but whaddya think I did?  I saved me treasure, yes I did.  But not afore I gave that crock a mark t’ remember me by and by.”

“Wow!”  said the second guy.  “But what about your hand?  How’d you lose it?”

“Argh.”  Said the pirate, “I may not have got me revenge that day, but I were not about t’ fergit that crock.  No, I went back t’ that swamp some years later and we met again.  This time th’ mangy git a-reared up an’ bit off me hand!”

The guys gasped again.

“But I ain’t lived this long a pirate an’ not been prepared!  With me good hand I sliced that crock from gizzard to gut afore he could get his bloated belly back on th’ ground.  The cut done him in an this time he were mine!”  The pirate then flashed his lone crocodile skin boot before the guys and adjusted his crocodile skin belt.  Then he hoisted up his beer and drank it down.

The guys whooped appreciatively, but then the third guy said, “Hey, now, then, what about your eye?”

The other two stopped cheering and added eagerly, “Hey, yeah, how’d you lose your eye?”

Slowly the pirate leaned forward and said ominously, “Well, now.  That do beat all.”   He sat back in his chair and rubbed his hook with his good hand.

“Come on,”  said the third guy; “tell us.”

The pirate tapped the empty glass with his hook, and the men quickly beckoned the waitress for another round of beer.  The pirate took a long draw, set down his glass, wiped his moustache on his coat sleeve and looked each guy over with his one remaining good eye.

“You see,” the pirate began.  The guys all leaned in.  “You see, it were me first day with me new hook an’ all o’ the sudden I were taken with a right powerful itch in me eye…”

 

Today Be Talk Like A Pirate Day, Arr!

Image via Wikipedia

Ahoy, me hearties!  Be you joinin’ in?  Not them gurt evil pirates what be causin’ mayhem an’ misery in Somalia, but them there cartoonish pirates what be makin’ ye laugh like a giant bein’ tickled by a cat o’ nine tails.

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If ye be joinin’ me in makin’ a fool o’ meself, I promise ye Cap’n Jack Sparrow as booty.  I be keepin’ Cap’n Picard to meself. 

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O’ course, I be a pirate and that be makin’ me a loathsome liar, so don’t ye be cryin’ inter yeh grog when Cap’n Pugwash turns up instead.

In case ye be wonderin’ where I gots me me clever turn o’ phrase, me special pirate-speak, don’t ye be thinkin’ I gots it from no blasted book – there b’ain’t no buccaneer! 

‘Twere that wench, that lily-livered landlubber, Mangetout, what steered me ‘cross the seven deadly seas in mortal peril, to find meself shipwrecked on the mysterious island o’ Yarr.org.  A fine wench that Mangetout be: refined-like, where I be corsair.

So, me scurvy dogs!  Be you comin’ along o’ me and Mangetout?  Or be ye too afeared, ye sons o’ biscuit eaters?

Yo-ho-ho and a bottle o’ rum! 

Avast Mangetout, ye scallywag – be you rememberin’ the coke, if ye don’t want to be keelhauled over the yardarm and lyin’ in Davy Jones’ locker!

Shiver me timbers!  I be forgettin’!  Because I be a handsome, generous Jack, I be leavin’ ye with a jolly jape what I plundered from those scurvy Savage Chickens:

Chicken [to Cap’n Hook]: I be breakin’ up with ye, Hook…it’s not you; it’s Smee.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Ocean

The Hub is a bit of a girl: he taught me to cook when we got married.  The first meal I ever made for him was burnt pasty and chips.  A great deal of burnt slop followed before I got the hang of it.

He can also sew, which brings me in a roundabout way to the prompt: he makes fabulous costumes.  It’s all bits lying around the house, imagination and sewing machines.  This one is Spud as a pirate (what do you mean, it’s a tenuous link at best?  Pirates sail on the ocean – just ask the Somalians):

 

 He made so many great costumes when Spud was in primary school that mothers would ask me where we bought them; when they discovered they were handmade, they would ask if he took commissions (for their dancing children).  Pity he was too ill, or being a bit of a girl would have paid off.  Instead, all he has is a mocking wife. 

But he’s generous, too.  Out of the blue the other day, he said to me, ‘Fancy a cruise to Somalia?’

Why Are Pirates Pirates? Because We Arrrrr!

 

I haven’t told you about my secret life as a pirate.  That’s me on the right, impeccably dressed as always.  The person on the left is Captain Kate, my boss.  My AKA name is Dangerous Daisy (and if you’ve tasted my cooking you’ll know why).

Our church has an annual week-long summer holiday club, for 7-11s.  I have managed to avoid it until now but I felt it was time to do my bit when somebody asked me, ‘Isn’t it time to do your bit?’  Spud had shacked up with his PS3 for the duration so I wasn’t needed at home and thus had no excuse to get out of it. 

The club has a different name each year to tie in with the theme.  This year’s theme was pirates and the club was called Landlubbers.  Which is odd now I think about it, because pirates tend to live on the sea, don’t they?  Aaarrrr!

At the meeting to dole out jobs we were asked who was good at drama; being a moron, I said I was: I had visions of directing the children in happy activities, you see.  ‘Great!’ came the reply, ‘You can act in the play every day.’  As compensation I also got to make the mid-morning snack: preparing food – just where my skill lies….

The week is about sharing Jesus with local children; numbers are rising, they like it, and don’t seem to mind us throwing in a bit of religion so long as we have plenty of fun activities for them to do like crafts, singing, games and, this year, den building.  Weirdly, it was the girls who built the dens and the boys who sat and watched.  I guess they’ve lost the use of their thumbs after all those hours in front of Playstations.

Or perhaps they were afraid for their lives: one of the games was called Cannonballs and involved two teams throwing soft balls at each other.  When the whistle blows, the team with the most balls loses, their ship having been sunk by the cannonballs.  Or in Child B’s case, the mouth in the most pain loses.  She was hit in the face with a soft ball thrown so hard (by a boy too weak to build a den) she burst into tears.  Still, at least she wasn’t Child A, frozen in fear when a ball hit the light above him and broke the shade, which crashed to the ground millimetres from where he stood.  They say a little religion is a dangerous thing. 

The children had a blast and I must confess that they weren’t the only ones.  Running around pews chasing villains, pulling sharks from my pants, being bonked on the head by a milk bottle (thrown by the vicar, not the audience; I didn’t realise my acting was that bad), hamming it up and improvising when I forgot my lines (despite having the script in my hand): what a great way to spend a week!  I sent up a little prayer of thanks each day: Dear Lord, thank you for making up with a sense of humour what I lack in acting ability.  Amen.

I can’t wait for next year; I hear they’re looking for actors.