Bytes: Funny Friday

Friday, August 7, 2020

Funny Friday

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How are we all doing, readers?

Okay, times are not great but at least we're still here to talk about it. The sun still shines, the wind still blows and the dark days will eventually end.

For the next few minutes switch off from the world outside and enjoy a few funnies.

Stay safe, readers.

Oh, some risque content ahead.

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SOME HUMOUR:

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My wife and I have reached the difficult decision that we do not want children.

If anybody else does, please just send me your contact details and we can drop them off tomorrow.

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At birth, success is being alive.

At age 3, success is not pooping your pants.

At age 10, success is having friends.

At age 16, success is having a driver's licence.

At age 20, success is having sex.

At age 30, success is having money...

At age 40, success is having money.

At age 55, success is having sex.

At age 70, success is having a driver's licence.

At age 75, success is having friends.

At age 80, success is not pooping your pants.

At age 100, success is being alive.

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I joined a gym and said to the trainer, “I want to impress beautiful girls, which machine should I use?”

He said, “Try the ATM outside.”

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A man was very worried when he went to see a doctor.

"Doctor, I want to let you know that I have a very small penis, and I would like you to not laugh about its size."

The doctor promised and told him that he is very professional.

So the man opened his pants, and there was the smallest penis the doctor has ever seen, it was so tiny that doctor could not help but laugh uncontrollably.

After a while, the doctor apologised and said: "I'm sorry, that was very unprofessional, so what's the problem?"

To which the man replied: "It's swollen."

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I'm not saying my wife's fat, but at recent fancy dress party, she went as a creature from folklore that subsists by feeding on the vital essence of the living.

She was Vampire the Buffet Slayer.

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FROM THE VAULT:

A woman brought a very limp duck in to a veterinary surgeon.

As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the duck's chest.

After a moment or two, the vet shook his head sadly and said, “I’m sorry, your duck Cuddles, has passed away.”

The distressed woman wailed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. The duck is dead,” replied the Vet.

“How can you be so sure?” she protested. “I mean you haven’t done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something.”

The vet rolled his eyes, turned around and left the room.

He returned a few minutes later with a Labrador.

As the duck’s owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.

The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room.

A few minutes later he returned with a cat. The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.

The vet looked at the woman and said, “I’m sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck.”

The Vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman.

The duck’s owner, still in shock, took the bill. “$1000!” she cried, “$1000 just to tell me my duck is dead!”

The vet shrugged, “I’m sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been $20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it’s now $1000."

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GALLERY: