Blog : Posts tagged with 'jokes'

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Joke of the week (part two)

In which a classic joke has a happy ending


“My dog’s got no nose.”

“Haven’t we been through this?”

“Shush. My dog’s got no nose.”

“How does he smell?”

Well, funny you should ask that. We’ve just joined this scheme called Smelling-Nose Dogs. You know how, in America, guide dogs are called seeing-eye dogs? My dog with no nose now has his own guide dog, who goes around, sniffs things, guides him away from odorous obstacles and generally lets him in on all the latest dog-gossip.* And it’s given him a whole new lease of life! He’s happy, and bouncy, and has a shiny coat!** He’s always bounding around and eager for his smelling-nose dog and him to go for a walk together. Completely unlike how he used to be, always moping in his basket unable to smell anything.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yes, it’s really done him the world of good.”

“Still not very funny, though.”

“Er, no.”

* You know – which dogs have urinated on which lamp-posts and that sort of thing. Which is, I’m told, very important information for dogs.

** Not that that has much to do with anything. Maybe I should be a copywriter for Evil Nestlé’s dog-food arm.

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Joke of the week (part one)

In which a classic joke turns out to be rather sad


“My dog’s got no nose”

“How does he smell?”

“He doesn’t. He sits around all day getting into a deeper and deeper cycle of depression, because he can’t smell anything, in one huge cloud of nose-related ennui. He never even comes out of his basket.”

“That’s quite sad, really.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why the title says it’s a joke.”

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Personal affairs

In which FP finds an interesting blog to read


This is not a sex blog. This is, in fact, almost the opposite of a sex blog. Sex is hardly ever mentioned, partly because, for one thing, most of the people who read this are (as far as I know) people who know me, and who would recoil in terror, looks of disgust on their faces, if they ever had to think about me having sex.

There are hundreds of thousands of sex blogs out there, though. I don’t read them very often, though; because generally they’re not that interesting. Reading other people’s fantasies, after all, generally isn’t. I find it more enjoyable to write my own sex stories. You’ll never find them here, and they’re not even my fantasies, but they’re fun to write.

Yesterday, though, idly browsing the web, I discovered a sex blog which is well-written, original, thoughtful, and witty. It’s called Bitchy Jones’s Diary, it’s passionate and dirty, in a sense political, and it’s a very good read.* It’s not about the flavour of sex I’m most interested in myself; but that doesn’t stop it being very enjoyable to read. Moreover, of all the sex blogs I’ve come across,** it’s the one most clearly written by someone who does what she wants because that’s her sexuality, and not because it’s someone else’s fantasy.

In other news: back in 2006 when the Ipswich prostitute murders were ongoing, people were very quick to circulate dead prostitute jokes that (presumably) they’d been keeping on ice since Peter Sutcliffe‘s heyday. What surprises me, though: now there’s been a conviction, I haven’t seen any “dead prostitute meets unfunny daytime DJ” jokes. Where are they all?

* It’s also not really SFW, if you were tempted to click the link; but you probably guessed that.

** Pun definitely not intended, I assure you.

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Percentages

In which we make some numbers up


According to Martijn, 47% of all blog posts consist of links to other blogs.*

Well, according to new research by the FP Militant Invective Laboratories, an entire 0.3% of current blog posts consist of links to blog posts about the proportion of blog posts which just consist of links to other blogs.

No, really. Honest. No, I didn’t just pull that number out of thin air. What sort of person do you think I am?**

* well, actually, he made it up. But it could be true.

** Oh, OK, I did really. But you never know.

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FP asked me to post this

In which it rains


It is of course pissing down. We are loitering within tent.

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Bad joke of the week

In which FP makes people groan


Special offer! Medieval torture kit, only £9.99*

* while stocks last

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Another shaggy dog

In which we tell a tall tale


There once was a teacher, who went by the name of Miss Swing. She was a very good teacher, popular with her children, who were all well-behaved and scored very well on all the tests they took. All the parents at parents’ evening either wanted to be her or be with her, and all her colleagues knew she was wonderful in the classroom, the best teacher the school had.

There was one small problem with Miss Swing, though. She would never agree with anyone else.

If you said something was black, she would say it was white. If you told her the weather was cold, she’d reply she thought it unseasonably warm. Anything you said to her, she would contradict if she could. The only exception was when she was on holiday, when she would be as pleasant and polite a person as you could ever meet. Apart from that, she would always disagree with everything you said.

Finally, one day, someone confronted her. “Why is it,” they said, “that when you’re on holiday you’re as charming as anyone, but when you’re in school, or even after work, you can never agree with anyone?”

“Ahh,” said Miss Swing, “I’m just a contradiction in terms.”

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Shaggy Dog (part three)

In which the tale is concluded


The conclusion. If you need to catch up, here is part one, and part two.

The next day, crowds went to the carpenter’s workshop, as usual, to
try to ask him to build and carve for them. But he was not there.
They looked through the windows, but his workshop was empty. They
looked through the windows of the house, but there was no sign of him.

They searched the entire village, but there was no sign of the
carpenter. After a while the village constable agreed to break
into the carpenter’s house, to find him. But he was nowhere to be
found.

The whole county started searching for the missing carpenter, but he
could not be found anywhere. He had disappeared, completely. They
searched for months, but the carpenter never returned.

Some people thought that he had got so angry with being asked to paint
everything he made, that he had decided to retire and move away. They
could not explain, though, how he had disappeared so suddenly. Others
thought that a disappointed client, who could not find a painter, had
done something; or that a great lord elsewhere had kidnapped him to
create beautiful furniture for the lord alone. Noone ever saw any
furniture in the carpenter’s style, though, but somehow this made
these people even more adamant they were right. Some thought he had
been murdered for the great riches they assumed he had made from his
work; but they were wrong, for he worked for the love of carpentry and
had spent all his money on expensive woods from overseas.

The carpenter never returned to the village, and noone ever saw
furniture like his again. Those things he had made were preserved
carefully by their owners, because they knew they were irreplacable.
To this day, what happened to the carpenter who refused to paint
remains a mystery. As far as anyone could tell, he just varnished.

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Laziness

In which we pretend to break something


I’ve noticed I’ve been a bit lax updating recently – if you look on the sidebar, you’ll notice these past few months have had far fewer posts than before. Back in January I said I was going to going to try to update every day. As you can see, I haven’t been managing it lately.

“Why do you have to update if you don’t have anything to say?” Someone asked recently. I feel I should, though. Previous attempts at creating diaries have always faded away due to laziness; when I started this site, the intention was to try to stick to one post per day. No more, no less, and the rhythm would stop it fading away. I don’t think there’s any risk of that happening quite yet, but I am going to try to put more effort in.

Big Dave is still up to something – he’s been up to something all week, I’m sure, but he’s not saying what it is yet. Lots of phone calls that he won’t take in front of people.

We were both up to something the other day, to be honest – we found a rather good screensaver* that simulates, very closely, a computer that has crashed so horribly that it won’t start up. Dave, of course, couldn’t resist installing it on the PC of someone who recently played a joke on him. He waited until we knew the chap was away from his desk, installed it remotely, then sat back and waited for the phone call.

The funny thing, though, is that he also installed it on his own PC, so he could see what it does. So now, every time he comes back to his desk,*** he has a millisecond of “Shit! Aargh!” before remembering that it’s his screensaver. Our fear of blue screens is that ingrained, he can’t help it.

* It’s from Sysinternals, a very good site if you have to be a Windows geek, with all sorts of useful semi-official system tools. It used to be independant, but was absorbed** by Microsoft this summer.

** or maybe “adsorbed” is a better word.

*** after answering one of those mysterious phone calls he keeps getting.

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