Old Joke - A Bit Rude

A local radio interviewer was sent out to the island to interview octogenerian Pat about his long life there.

The interviewer set his tape machine running.

"Pat," he said, "tell me, if you will, about your happiest memory of the Island."

Pat replied, "That would be the time that Carmel the Sheep went missing... all the men of the island gathered by torchlight and scoured the length and breadth of the island.  They found her stuck in a hedge and they brought her back here where they all had a few drinks and they all had sex with her."

"Interesting," said the interviewer, a tad uncomfortably, "would you also share with us your second happiest memory?"

Pat replied, "That would be the time that Margaret my wife went missing... all the men of the island gathered by torchlight and scoured the length and breadth of the island.  They found her stuck in a hedge and they brought her back here where they all had a few drinks and they all had sex with her."

"Finally Pat, would you recall your worst memory of the island."

Pat reflected for a time...

"That," he said, "would have to be the night that I went missing..."


5 comments:

Pam Nash said...

Fab. Just........fab! :)

Aerté Du Draumr said...

-_- that is disgusting

Poetikat said...

Oh, EWE!

Elisabeth said...

Very funny, a tad dark, wonderful story. Thanks Ken.

Jim Murdoch said...

I can never remember jokes. In fact for years I told the same two over and over again. Neither is especially clean but this is the less rude:

There’s this Primary School class full of seven- and eight-year-olds and they’ve got this very prim and proper teacher. One of the kids sticks his hand up:
“Please Miss, please Miss, I need to have a pish.”
The teacher is aghast: “It’s not a pish, young man, it’s a Number One. Now off you go.”
And the wee boy goes off and does his business.

A bit after that another boy sticks up his hand.
“Yes?” asks the teacher.
“Please Miss, please Miss, I need a shite.”
“A wh..? A wh..? It’s not a shite, young man, it’s a Number Two. Now off you go.”
And the wee boy goes off and does his business.

Later on all the rough ‘uns at the back of the class are goading each other:
“You, tell her.”
“Nah, you tell her.”
Finally one puts his hand up.
“Yes?” says the teacher.
“Please Miss, Billy here wants to fart and he doesn’t know the code.”