Two little boys, ages 8 and 10, are excessively mischievous. They are always getting into trouble and their parents know if any monkey business occurs in their neighbourhood, the two boys are probably involved.

The boys’ mother heard that a preacher in town had been successful in disciplining children, so she asked if he would speak with her boys. The preacher agreed, but he asked to see them individually.

The mother sent the 8 year old in the morning, with the older boy to see the preacher in the afternoon.

The preacher, a huge man with a deep booming voice, sat the younger boy down and asked him sternly, “Do you know where God is, son?”

The boy made no verbal response but he sat there wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open.

The preacher repeated the question in an even sterner tone, “Where is God?”

Again, the boy made no attempt to answer.

The preacher raised his voice even more and shook his finger in the boy’s face and bellowed, “WHERE IS GOD?”

The boy screamed & bolted from the room, ran directly home & dove into his closet, slamming the door behind him.

His older brother found him in the closet, he asked, “What happened?”

The younger brother, gasping for breath, replied, “We are in BIG trouble this time!”

“GOD is missing, and they think WE did it!”

I am so confident in myself that I always solve crossword puzzles with a fountain pen.

“We don’t bother much about dress and manners in England, because as a nation we don’t dress well and we’ve no manners.”
- George Bernard Shaw

One night outside a small town, a fire started inside the local chemical plant. In the blink of an eye, it exploded into massive flames.

The alarm went out to all fire departments for miles around.

When the volunteer fire fighters appeared on the scene, the chemical company President rushed to the Fire Chief and said, “All our secret formulae are in the vault in the centre of the plant. They must be saved. I’ll give $50,000 to the fire department that brings them out intact.”

But the roaring flames held the fire-fighters off. Soon, more fire departments had to be called in as the situation became desperate.

As the firemen arrived, the President shouted out that the offer was now $100,000 to the fire department who could save the company’s secret files.

From the distance, a lone siren was heard as another fire truck came into sight. It was the nearby Chasidic Jewish rural township volunteer fire company composed entirely of Jewish, ultra -orthodox men over the age of 65.

To everyone’s amazement, that little broken-down fire engine roared right past all the sleek, newer engines that were parked outside the plant.

Without even slowing down, it drove straight into the middle of the inferno.

Outside, the other firemen watched as the Chasidic old timers jumped off right in the middle of the fire and fought it back on all sides.

It was a performance and effort never seen before.

Within a short time, the Chasidic old timers had extinguished the fire and saved the secret formulae.

The grateful chemical company President announced that for such a superhuman feat, he was upping the reward to $200,000, and walked over to thank each of the brave fire fighters personally.

The local TV news reporter rushed in to capture the event on film, asking their chief, “What are you going to do with all that money?”

“Vell,” said Moishe Goldberg, the 70-year-old fire chief, “Da foist ting ve gonna do is fix da brakes on dat damn truck!!!!”

The old man approached a young stranger in the post office and asked, “Sir, would you address this postcard for me?”

The man gladly did so, and then offered to write a short note for the old fellow.

Finally the stranger asked, “Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”

The old man thought a moment and said, “Yes, at the end could you add, Please excuse the sloppy handwriting.”

A big group of hunters were in the middle of the jungle and decided to split into smaller groups.

Four men, who shared the same hobby, decided to form one of the smaller groups and started walking.

After a while, one of them realized they were quite far away from the main group, and that they couldn’t possibly find the way back.

One of this group says to the other three: “I’ve heard that whenever you can’t find your main group, what you have to do is to shoot three times to the air and wait for someone to find you”

They shoot three times to the air, wait a while, but nothing happens.

So they shoot three more times to the air but, again, no one comes to help them.

After trying three more shots more one guy says: “I hope this time someone can find us… that was my last arrow.”

A farmer went out one day and bought a brand new stud rooster for his chicken coop. The new rooster struts over to the old rooster and says, “OK old boy, time for you to retire.”

The old rooster replies, “Come on, surely you cannot handle ALL of these chickens. Look what it has done to me. Can’t you just let me have the two old hens over in the corner?”

The young rooster says, “Beat it: You are washed up and I am taking over.”

The old rooster says, “I tell you what, young stud. I will race you around the farmhouse. Whoever wins gets the exclusive domain over the entire chicken coop.”

The young rooster laughs. “You know you don’t stand a chance, old bird. So, just to be fair, I will give you a head start.”

The old rooster takes off running. About 15 seconds later the young rooster takes off running after him. They round the front porch of the farmhouse and the young rooster has closed the gap.

He is only about 5 feet behind the old rooster and gaining fast. The farmer, meanwhile, is sitting in his usual spot on the front porch when he sees the roosters running by.

The Old Rooster is squawking and running as hard as he can. The Farmer grabs his shotgun and …

… he blows the young rooster to bits.

The farmer sadly shakes his head and says, “Dang it!

…That’s the third gay rooster I bought this month!”

“Programming today is a race between software engineers striving to build bigger and better idiot-proof programs, and the Universe trying to produce bigger and better idiots. So far, the Universe is winning.”

An old man and his dog were walking along a country road, enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to the man that he had died.

He remembered dying, and realized, too, that the dog had been dead for many years. He wondered where the road would lead them, and continued onward.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble.

At the top of a long hill, it was broken by a tall, white arch that gleamed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like mother of pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold. When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, but is this heaven?”

“Yes, it is, sir,” the man answered.

“Wow! Would you happen to have some water?” the man asked.

“Of course, sir. Come right in, and I’ll have some ice water brought right up.” The gatekeeper gestured to his rear, and the huge gate began to open.

“I assume my friend can come in?” the man said, gesturing toward his dog.

But the reply was, “I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t accept pets.”

The man thought about it, then thanked the gatekeeper, turned back toward the road, and continued in the direction he had been going.

After another long walk, he reached the top of another long hill, and he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate.

There was no fence, and it looked as if the gate had never been closed, as grass had grown up around it. As he approached the gate, he saw a man just inside, sitting in the shade of a tree in a rickety old chair, reading a book.

“Excuse me!” he called to the reader. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah, sure, there’s a pump over there,” the man said, pointing to a place that couldn’t be seen from outside the gate. “Come on in and make yourself at home.”

“How about my friend here?” the traveller gestured to the dog.

“He’s welcome too, and there’s a bowl by the pump,” he said. They walked through the gate and, sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a dipper hanging on it and a bowl next to it on the ground.

The man filled the bowl for his dog, and then took a long drink himself.

When both were satisfied, he and the dog walked back toward the man, who was sitting under the tree waiting for them, and asked, “What do you call this place?”

“This is heaven,” was the answer.

“Well, that’s confusing,” the traveller said. “It certainly doesn’t look like heaven, and there’s another man down the road who said that place was heaven.”

“Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates?”

“Yes, it was beautiful.”

“Nope. That’s hell.”

“Doesn’t it offend you for them to use the name of heaven like that?”

“No. I can see how you might think so, but it actually saves us a lot of time. They screen out the people who are willing to leave their best friends behind.”

I join the queue
We move up nicely.

I ask the lady in front
What are we queuing for.
“To join another queue,”
She explains.

“How pointless,” I say,
“I’m leaving.” She points
To another long queue.
“Then you must get in line.”

I join the queue.
We move up nicely.

A millionbillionwillion miles from home
Waiting for the bell to go. (To go where?)
Why are they all so big, other children?
So noisy? So much at home they
Must have been born in uniform
Lived all their lives in playgrounds
Spent the years inventing games
That don’t let me in. Games
That are rough, that swallow you up.

And the railings.
All around, the railings.
Are they to keep out wolves and monsters?
Things that carry off and eat children?
Things you don’t take sweets from?
Perhaps they’re to stop us getting out
Running away from the lessins. Lessin.
What does a lessin look like?
Sounds small and slimy.
They keep them in the glassrooms.
Whole rooms made out of glass. Imagine.

I wish I could remember my name
Mummy said it would come in useful.
Like wellies. When there’s puddles.
Yellowwellies. I wish she was here.
I think my name is sewn on somewhere
Perhaps the teacher will read it for me.
Tea-cher. The one who makes the tea.

A woman was reading a newspaper one morning and said to her husband, “Look at this, dear. There’s an article here about a man who traded his wife for a season ticket to Arsenal. You wouldn’t do a thing like that, - would you?”

“Of course I wouldn’t!” replied her husband. “The season’s almost over!”

The Devil was constantly challenging St Peter to a game of soccer, but St Peter refused, until one day while walking around heaven he discovered that quite a number of international footballers had entered the ‘pearly gates’.

“I think I’ll arrange to play that soccer game,” said St Peter to the Devil. “We have a great number of international soccer stars in heaven at the moment from which to select a winning team.”

“You’ll lose, you’ll lose!” taunted the Devil. “What makes you so sure we’ll lose?” enquired St Peter. “Because,” laughed the Devil, “we have all the referees down here.”

The top scorer of a Premier League team was tragically killed in a car accident. Seeing an opportunity for glory, the reserve striker went to see the manager.

“How about me taking his place?” he asked.

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” said the manager, “we’ll have to speak to the undertaker first.”

An American visitor to England watched his very first football match and was struck by the differences between English and American football.

After the match he fell into conversation with one of the English players and remarked, “You know, over in the States, our players wear thick protective clothing. You guys must be frozen stiff in those light clothes.”

“It’s not so bad,” said the Englishman. “Sometimes the ground is covered in snow.”

“You don’t say!” exclaimed the American. “What do you do about the balls? Paint them red?”

“Oh, no,” said the player. “We just wear an extra pair of shorts.”

After a visit to the doctor, Joe, the City’s team centre forward dropped in to his local pub for a quick one.

“What’s up mate?” asked his friend Brian, “you look worried.”

“Yes, I am,” Joe replied. “I’ve just been to the doctor’s and he told me I can’t play football.”

“Oh, really?” said Brian. “He’s seen you play too then, has he?”

Always date a girl with small hands. That way anything she has in her hand will look larger.

A seaman meets a pirate in a bar, and take turns telling their adventures on the sea.

The seaman notes that the pirate has a peg-leg, a hook, and an eye patch so he asks: “How did you end up with the peg-leg?”

The pirate replies, “We were in a storm at sea, and I was swept overboard into a school of sharks. Just as me men were pulling me out, a shark bit my leg off.”

“Wow!” said the seaman. “What about your hook”?

“Well”, replied the pirate, “We were boarding an enemy ship and were battling the other sailors with swords. One of the enemy cut me hand off.”

“Incredible!” remarked the seaman. “How did you get the eye patch?”

“A seagull dropping fell into me eye,” replied the pirate.

“You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?,” the sailor asked incredulously.

“Well,” said the pirate, “it was the first day with me hook.”

A PATELLA: Accompanied by knee-slapping

ALLREGRETTO: When you’re 16 measures into the piece and realize you took too fast a tempo

AN-DANTE: A tempo that’s infernally slow

ANGUS DEI: To play with a divinely beefy tone

ANTIPHONAL: Referring to the prohibition of cell phones in the concert hall

APPOLOGGIATURA: A composition that you regret playing

APPROXIMATURA: A series of notes not intended by the composer, yet played with an “I meant to do that” attitude

APPROXIMENTO: A musical entrance that is somewhere in the vicinity of the correct pitch

BAR LINE: What musicians form after the concert

BASSO CONTINUO: When musicians are still fishing long after the legal season has ended

BEN SOSTENUTO: First cousin of the second trombonist

CACOUGHANY: A composition incorporating many people with chest colds

CADENZA: Something that happens when you forget what the composer wrote

CANTABILE: To achieve a complaining sound, as if you have a sour stomach

COL LEGNO: An indication to cellists to hold on tight with their lower extremities

CON SORDINO: An indication to string players to bow in a slashing, rapier motion

CORAL SYMPHONY: A large, multi-movement work from Beethoven’s Caribbean Period

DILL PICCOLINI: An exceedingly small wind instrument that plays only sour notes

ESPRESSIVO: Used to indicate permission to take a coffee break

FERMANTRA: A note held over and over and over and over and . . .

FERMOOTA: A note of dubious value held for indefinite length

FIDDLER CRABS: Grumpy string players

FLUTE FLIES: Those tiny mosquitoes that bother musicians on outdoor gigs

FRUGALHORN: A sensible and inexpensive brass instrument

GAUL BLATTER: A French horn player

GREGORIAN CHAMP: The title bestowed upon the monk who can hold a note the longest

GROUND HOG: Someone who takes control of the repeated bass line and won’t let anyone else play it

L’ISTESSO TEMPO: An indication to play listlessly; e.g., as if you don’t care

MAESTRO: A person who, standing in front of the orchestra and/or chorus, is able to follow them precisely

OPERA BUFFA: A musical stage production performed by nudists

PASTORALE: The beverage to drink in the country when listening to Beethoven with a member of the clergy

PESANTE: An effect distinctly non-upper-class

PISSICATO: Too much coffee — time to take a break

PLACEBO DOMINGO: A faux tenor

RUBATO: A cross between a rhubarb and a tomato

SCHMALZANDO: A sudden burst of music from the Guy Lombardo band

SPRITZICATO: An indication to string instruments to produce a bright and bubbly sound

STRINGENDO: An unpleasant effect produced by the violin section when it doesn’t use vibrato

TEMPO TANTRUM: What an elementary school orchestra is having when it’s not following the conductor (also common in municipal bands and community orchestras)

THE RIGHT OF STRINGS: Manifesto of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Violists

TROUBLE CLEF: Any clef one can’t read: e.g., alto clef for pianists.

VESUVIOSO: An indication to build up to a fiery conclusion

VIBRATO: A device to assist female performers who have trouble when the music is marked “con espressivo”

VIBRATTO: Child prodigy son of the concertmaster

Paddy was walking home late at night and sees a woman in the shadows.

“Twenty quid ” she whispers.

He’d never been with a hooker before, but he decides what the heck, its only twenty quid. So they hide in the bushes.

They’re going “at it” for a couple of minutes when all of a sudden a light flashes on them. It’s a police officer.

“What’s going on here, people?” asks the officer.

“Oh I’m making love to me wife,” Paddy answers indignantly.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” says the cop, “I didn’t know.”

“Well,” Paddy says, “neither did I, until you shined that light in her face”.

I was a very happy man. My wonderful girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. There was only one little thing bothering me - it was her beautiful younger sister.

My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two, wore very tight miniskirts, and generally was bra-less. She would regularly bend down when she was near me, and I always got more than a nice view. It had to be deliberate, because she never did it when she was near anyone else.

One day “little” sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived, and she whispered to me that she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn’t overcome. She told me that she wanted me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister.

Well, I was in total shock, and couldn’t say a word.

She said, “I’m going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want one last wild fling, just come up and get me.”

I was stunned and frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. I stood there for a moment, then turned and made a beeline straight to the front door.

I opened the door, and headed straight towards my car.

Lo and behold, my entire future family was standing outside, all clapping!

With tears in his eyes, my father-in-law to be hugged me and said, “We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn’t ask for a better man for our daughter.

“Welcome to the family.”

Moral?

Always keep your condoms in your car.

Before a burglary trial, the judge explained to the defendant, “You can let me try your case, or you can choose to have a jury of your peers.”

The man thought for a moment. “What are peers?” he asked.

“They’re people just like you – your equals.”

“Forget it,” retorted the defendant. “I don’t want to be tried by a bunch of thieves.”