Horatio, this man was killed by a psychic midget!

H: Well, it seems that we have...

*puts on sunglasses*

An extra-small medium at large.

 

Was in bed with a blind girl last night, when she said "that I had the biggest penis she ever laid her hands on."
I said "You're pulling my leg!"

Finally, I've finished Stephen Hawking's book.
It's about time
They've also finally gotten round to publishing his erotic novel about herbs.
It's about fucking thyme

I came home yesterday with 2 armchairs and a sofa that a kind man gave me in the park
My dad bollocked me for taking suites from strangers

A pelican walks into a chemist's shop and asks for a chap stick, "£2.20 please" says the chemist
"Can you put it on my bill please?" says the pelican

How do you pick up welsh cheese
Very caerphilly

Did you hear about the dyslexic guy who got an invite to a toga party?
He went dressed as a goat

Did you hear about the gay guy who was sacked from the sperm bank?
He was caught drinking on the job

Got stopped in the street yesterday to ask if I'd do a 10km run. "No way" I said, "go on, its for blind people". So I said "Fuck it, go on then - I could win this!"

I saw a sign in a shop - 'Mosquito nets £10'
I didn't even know insects could play the lottery

Me and the Mrs have invented a new sexual position called "The Frodo"
Not a lot to it, I just spend the best part of 9 hours trying to destroy her ring

 

Only funny ones there.

 

A lawyer's dog, running around town unleashed, heads for a butcher shop and steals a roast. The butcher goes to the lawyer's office and asks, "if a dog running unleashed steals a piece of meat from my store, do I have a right to demand payment for the meat from the dog's owner?" The lawyer answers, "Absolutely."

"Then you owe me $8.50. Your dog was loose and stole a roast from me today."

The lawyer, without a word, writes the butcher a check for $8.50. The butcher, having a feeling of satisfaction, leaves.

Three days later, the butcher finds a bill from the lawyer: $100 due for a consultation.

 

3 guys walk into a bar
The first guy says "I have got the smallest arm in the world"
The second guy "I have the smallest head in the world"
The third guy "I have got the smallest dick in the world"
The 3 guys go to the Guinness World Records
The first guy comes back and says "I really do have the smallest arm in the world"
The second guy comes back and says "Amazing, I do have the smallest head in the world"
The third guy comes back angry " Who the FUCK is JUSTIN BEIBER?!"

 

Wie erklärt man einer Frau, was eine Verknüpfung ist?
Hier kommt mal eine vernünftige Erklärung, die frau auch begreift!!!

Anfrage von Anwenderin:
Wenn ich einen Film auf meinen USB-Stick speichern möchte, kommt die
Meldung, dass auf dem USB-Stick nicht genügend Speicherplatz vorhanden ist.

Dann versuche ich es mit Verknüpfung speichern und dann ist Platz genug und
der Film ist auf dem
USB-Stick. Problem ist aber, wenn ich diesen Film auf dem USB-Stick auf
einem anderen PC
anschauen möchte. Da kommt die Meldung: "nicht gefunden".
Aber auf meinem PC funktioniert es. Was kann das sein?


Antwort IT-Hotline:
Sehr geehrte Anwenderin,
in Ihre Handtasche passt Ihr Pelzmantel einfach nicht rein.
Ein Zettel mit Vermerk, dass Ihr Pelzmantel im Schrank hängt,
passt in Ihre Handtasche rein. Also solange Sie diesen Zettel
daheim lesen, finden Sie Ihren Pelzmantel im Schrank.
Schwieriger wird es, wenn Sie Ihre Freundin besuchen und dort Ihren
Zettel lesen und erfahren, dass Ihr Pelzmantel im Schrank hängt.
In dem Schrank von Ihrer Freundin können Sie suchen, so lange Sie wollen,
Ihren Pelzmantel finden Sie dort bestimmt nicht...
Noch eine Hilfe:
Handtasche = USB-Stick
Pelzmantel = Film
Zettel = Verknüpfung
Schrank = PC
Motten im Schrank = PC Virus
Nachbar im Schrank = Hacker
....alles klar?

 

Germany lost the war you know. We don't all have to speak Deutch.

 

First: if you write in English then it's German and not 'Deutch'.

Second: a lot of people speak German, like in Germany or in Europe altogether.

Third: I got this in German so I didn't bother to translate it, because believe it or not some people speak German even here on DLP.:awesome

 

Also, some jokes are not as funny when translated.

 

This is an English speaking website. Speak fucking English.

 

Je t'emmerde.

 

HoS once again lives up to his name ...

 

君怒っとるかい、お兄ちゃん？

 

Stop speaking Moon Speak Rin it's not cool.

 

Man 1: Have you heard about the restaurant on the moon?

Man 2: No, how's it doing?

Man 1: Not too good, they say it has no atmosphere.

 

So I saw the son of God dressed as a janitor today...

Jesus swept.

 

If a tree falls in the forest and hits a hipster, does it make a sound?

Yes, but not one YOU'VE ever heard.

 

My pessimistic dad died last week. I still can't find his won't.

News is filtering through that a group of unruly youths in Cambridge have hurled an egg at a shop window.

 

I was stood at a bus stop the other day in Stockport (shitty neighbourhood outside Manchester) and there was the usual collection of chavs, scallies and mentalists that you generally do your best to avoid. Unfortunately, this particular day it was absolutely fucking pissing down, so I couldn't do my normal trick of smoking just outside the shelter and looking really grumpy.

So I was sat inside the shelter when this guy walked over and sat down beside me. I moved slightly away from him on the bench and glanced up, expecting to see another ugly, scowling mug staring back at me. Instead, to my fucking amazement, I see the ugliest face gazing back at me, from the largest, most misshapen, most hideously bright orange head I've ever fucking seen. I mean, he had a head like a fucking orange.

Even worse was, after a couple of seconds where all I could do was stare in frozen, abject horror at this monstrosity of a person before me, I realised something— I knew this person!

I mean, obviously I knew him before he got an enormous orange head — that's not the sort of thing you're likely to forget — but I'd gone to school with him five years earlier.

But the absolute worst thing was, that as I realised I knew him, I saw that fucking shit-eating glimmer in his eye that told me he'd recognised me too! I've never been more fucking gutted in my entire life.

So we exchanged the normal pleasantries. That is to say, I muttered my way through them under my breath, so nobody would see me talking to this freak and he was incredibly happy and jovial the entire way through and talked so loudly that everyone for miles around stopped to watch us.

Again, as if things couldn't get any worse, the bus I'm waiting for is the same one he's getting and yes, he's going all the way to my stop: whoop-de-fucking-do!

So we get talking. Because obviously he sits next to me, completely uninvited. As you do when you meet a school friend you've not seen for years. We talked about this (how I was getting back into writing again) and that (how he was managing a small post-production company) and finally, because I couldn't take it any more, I had to ask:

"Look mate, I'm really sorry but I've got to know. What's with the head?"

He looked at me. He gave me that look, you know the one.

"You'll never believe it," he said.

"Well you can't say that and leave me hanging," I replied, feeling outraged.

For a moment he hesitated, then relented.

"Alright," he said. "But everything I tell you is the honest, gospel truth."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Okay, so one day..." he began and told me the strangest story I've ever heard.

As it transpired, he was walking down Brighton beach one day when he fell over something in the sand.

'What you've gotta remember,' he told me. 'Was this was the lowest day of my life. I'd just lost my job, my house and my girlfriend. All the money I had was in my pocket and that came to sixty-three pence. I was pretty depressed and was entirely considering throwing myself off the pier.'

But he tripped in the sand and in annoyance, looked back to see something gold sticking out of the sand. He reached out, picked it up and to his astonishment, realised it was a lamp. Thinking he could sell it for a bit of cash to a pawn brokers, he rubbed it with his shirt, to see if it could get any shine on it. To his utter astonishment, a Genie popped out.

"Wait a minute," I said quickly, interrupting. "A what?"

"Let me finish," he insisted. "I promise you its all true."

So at first he thought he was the victim of a practical joke, but when he put his hand through the genie, he was sure he was going mad.

'Going mad?' asked the genie, laughing. 'Make a wish and we'll see if you're going mad.'

'Well in that case I wish I had a billion pounds,' he said.

And in that instance, an enormous case fell out of the sky, showered everything nearby with sand and burst open at his feet, revealing a billion pounds. He couldn't believe his luck, it was absolutely amazing. And he explained to me that since that moment he's been free to chase every passion he'd ever wanted.

I was still sceptical.

"That's not the end of the story though," he insisted and continued.

'You've two more wishes,' the genie informed him. 'So make them good ones.'

'Well,' he said, knowing that he could buy anything he ever really wanted. 'I wish I could meet the perfect woman. Someone who I'd instantly fall passionately in love with and who'd love me back unconditionally.'

A second later the most perfect woman in the world walked along the beach and seized him in the most passionate kiss of his life.

"I'm still with her," he assured me. "So with more money than I could possibly spend and a perfectly happy, incredibly stable relationship, I thought long and hard about how to make my last wish."

By this point, I was almost beside myself with anticipation.

"And what I wished for," he continued, in a slow, pondering voice. "And this is where I think I made my mistake—"

"Get on with it," I urged, by this point our stop was close approaching.

"Well you see," he said and turned a haunted expression upon me. "What I wished for was a giant orange head."