It was entertainment night at the old people's home.
Claude the hypnotist exclaimed: 'I'm here to put you into a trance; I intend to hypnotize each and every member of the audience.'
The excitement was almost electric as Claude withdrew a beautiful antique pocket watch from his coat 'I want you each to keep your eye on this antique watch. It's a very special watch. It's been in my family for six generations'.
He began to swing the watch gently back and forth while quietly chanting, 'Watch the watch, watch the watch, and watch the watch...'
The crowd became mesmerized as the watch swayed back and forth, light gleaming off its polished surface.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes followed the swaying watch, until, suddenly, it slipped from the hypnotist's finger and fell to the floor, shattering into a hundred pieces.
'SH*T' said the Hypnotist.
It took three days to clean up the old people's home.
An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed.
While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite biscuits wafting up the stairs.
He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.
With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen.
Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon waxed paper on the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite biscuits, freshly baked.
Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Scottish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?
Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in crumpled posture.
His aged and withered hand trembled towards a biscuit at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a spatula.............
'F**k off' she said, ‘they’re for the funeral.............'
Mick, from Dublin , appeared on 'Who Wants To Be A Millionaire' and towards the end of the program had already won 500,000 pounds.
You've done very well so far,' said, Chris Tarrant, the show's presenter, 'but for a million pounds you've only got one lifeline left - phone a friend. Everything is riding on this question......will you go for it?'
'Sure,' said Mick. 'I'll have a go!' 'Which of the following birds does NOT build its own nest?'
A : Sparrow
B: Thrush
C: Magpie
D: Cuckoo
I haven't got a clue,' said Mick, 'so I'll use me last lifeline and phone me friend Paddy back home in Dublin '. Mick called up his mate, and told him the circumstances and repeated the question to him.
'****** hell, Mick!' cried Paddy. 'Dat's simple......it's a cuckoo.'
'Are you sure?'
'I'm ****** sure.' Mick hung up the phone and told Chris, 'I'll go wit Cuckoo as me answer.'
'Is that your final answer?' asked Chris
'Dat it is, Sir.'
There was a long - long pause, and then the presenter screamed, 'Cuckoo is the correct answer! Mick, you've won 1 million pounds!'
The next night, Mick invited Paddy to their local pub to buy him a drink.
'Tell me, Paddy? How in Heaven's name did you know it was da Cuckoo that doesn't build its own nest?
'Because he lives in a ****** clock!'
A young man moved into a new apartment of his own and went to the lobby to put his name on his mailbox.
While there, an attractive young lady came out of the apartment next to the mailboxes, wearing a robe.
The boy smiled at the young woman and she started a conversation with him.
As they talked, her robe slipped open, and it was obvious that she had nothing else on. The poor kid broke into a sweat trying to maintain eye contact.
After a few minutes, she placed her hand on his arm and said, 'Let's go to my apartment, I hear someone coming.'
He followed her into her apartment; she closed the door and leaned against it, allowing her robe to fall off completely.
Now nude, she purred at him, 'What would you say is my best feature?'
Flustered and embarrassed, he finally squeaked, 'It's got to be your ears.'
Astounded, and a little hurt she asked, 'My ears? Look at these breasts; they are full and 100% natural. I work out every day and my butt is firm and solid. Look at my skin - no blemishes anywhere.
How can you think that the best part of my body is my ears?'
Clearing his throat, he stammered .... 'Outside, when you said you heard someone coming.... that was me.'
A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs. The son is just a head! But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion.
After 21 years,the son is now old enough for his first drink. Dad takes him to the bar, tearfully tells the son he is proud of him and orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol.
Swoooosh! Plop!! A torso pops out! The bar is dead silent; then bursts into whoops of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again.The patrons chant'Take another drink!'
The bartender continues to shake his head in dismay.Swoosh! Plip! Plop!!Two arms pop out.
The bar goes wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant, 'Take another drink! Take another drink!!' The bartender ignores the whole affair and goes back to polishing glasses, shaking his head, clearly unimpressed by the amazing scenes.
By now the boy is getting tipsy, but with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it. Plop! Plip!! Two legs pop out. The bar is in chaos.
The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left, then staggers to the right through the front door into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly.
The bar falls silent. The father moans in grief. The bartender sighs and says: "He should've quit while he was a head!"
Doodle's Dawdle by Alastair Montgomery
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