Kenny The Rooster - Contains Adult Humour

[copemech]

Scary Night

I ran into a pack of Zombies on Halloween and one of them sucked my brains out !!!!

I will survive though, she only charged a tenner.

[bultoboy]

Barman said you cant bring that in here

Man walks into a bar with a time machine. .............

[pa.]

[steveo]

SCOTTISH LOVE STORY

An elderly Scotsman lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite pan fried drop scones 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 the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones.

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 a crumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon .......

she said...............

"p*** off', they're for the funeral."

[b40rt]

[baldilocks]

Oh dear

[ham2]

Oh dear

Yes? Broadcasters who don't read through first.....

Anyway, on the subject of bad taste jokes:

Do you name your todger?

My ex-girlfriend called mine the 'Impaler' when she was kneeling down there, at least that's what I thought she said just before her last ever asthma attack.

[zippy]

from Jalopnik http://jalopnik.com/this-is-the-most-embarrassing-plane-pooping-story-ever-1456846301

Most Embarrising plane pooping story:

Just over halfway through the flight, all the coffee in my stomach feels like it's percolating its way down into my lower intestine. I hunker down and try and focus on other things. What feels like an hour, but probably isn't more than twenty minutes, passes. We then enter what turns out to be pretty violent turbulence. With each bounce, I have to fight my body, trying not to **** my pants. "Thirty minutes to landing, maybe forty five" I try and tell myself, each jostle a gamble I can't afford to lose. I signal to [the flight attendant] and she heads toward me.

"Excuse me, where is the bathroom, because I don't see a door?" I ask while still devoting considerable energy to fighting off what starts to feel like someone shook a seltzer bottle and shoved it up my ass. She looks at me, bemused, and says, "Well, we don't really have one per se." She continues, "Technically, we have one, but it's really just for emergencies. Don't worry, we're landing shortly anyway."

"I'm pretty sure this qualifies as an emergency," I manage to mutter through my grimace. I can see the fear in her face as she points nervously to the back seat. The turbulence outside is matched only by the cyclone that is ravaging my bowels. She points to the back of the plane and says, "There. The toilet is there." For a brief instant, relief passes over my face. She continues, "If you pull away the leather cushion from that seat, it's under there. There's a small privacy screen that pulls up around it, but that's it." At this point, I was committed. She had just lit the dynamite and the mine shaft was set to blow.

I turn to look where she is pointing and I get the urge to cry. I do cry, but my face is so tightly clenched it makes no difference. The "toilet" seat is occupied by the CFO, i.e. our ******* client. Our ******* female ******* client!

Up to this point, nobody has observed my struggle or my exchange with the flight attendant. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." That's all I can say as I limp toward her like Quasimodo impersonating a penguin, and begin my explanation. Of course, as soon as my competitors see me talking to the CFO, they all perk up to find out what the hell I'm doing.

Given my jovial nature and fun-loving attitude thus far on the roadshow, almost everybody thinks I'm joking. She, however, knows right away that I am anything but and jumps up, moving quickly to where I had been sitting. I now had to remove the seat top – no easy task when you can barely stand upright, are getting tossed around like a hoodrat at a block party, and are fighting against a gastrointestinal Mt. Vesuvius.

I manage to peel back the leather seat top to find a rather luxurious looking commode, with a nice cherry or walnut frame. It had obviously never been used, ever. Why this moment of clarity came to me, I do not know. Perhaps it was the realization that I was going to take this toilet's virginity with a fury and savagery that was an abomination to its delicate craftsmanship and quality. I imagined some poor Italian carpenter weeping over the violently soiled remains of his once beautiful creation. The lament lasted only a second as I was quickly back to concentrating on the tiny muscle that stood between me and molten hot lava.

I reach down and pull up the privacy screens, with only seconds to spare before I erupt. It's an alka-seltzer bomb, nothing but air and liquid spraying out in all directions – a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. The pressure is now reversed. I feel like I'm going to have a stroke, I push so hard to end the relief, the tormented sublime relief.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry." My apologies do nothing to drown out the heinous noises that seem to carry on and reverberate throughout the small cabin indefinitely. If that's not bad enough, I have one more major problem. The privacy screen stops right around shoulder level. I am sitting there, a disembodied head, in the back of the plane, on a bucking bronco for a toilet, all while looking my colleagues, competitors, and clients directly in the eyes. "Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!" briefly comes to mind.

I literally could reach out with my left hand and rest it on the shoulder of the person adjacent to me. It was virtually impossible for him, or any of the others, and by others I mean high profile business partners and clients, to avert their eyes. They squirm and try not to look, inclined to do their best to carry on and pretend as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening, that they weren't sharing a stall with some guy crapping his intestines out. Releasing smelly, sweaty, shame at 100 feet per second.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry" is all the ashamed disembodied head can say…over and over again. Not that it mattered.

[ham2]

My Chinese friend told me that he had just opened a 'crows shop', I laughed and told him that he must mean a 'clothes shop'. He said 'no, come and take a rook'.

[b40rt]

I got my wife a fridge for Christmas 2 years ago, she still loves it, every time she opens the door I see her little face light up.

[the_oil_baron]

'Captain Smithers'

In the greatest days of the British Empire, a new commanding officer was sent to a jungle outpost to relieve the retiring colonel.

After welcoming his replacement and showing the courtesies (gin and tonic, cucumber sandwiches) that protocol decrees, the retiring colonel said,

"You must meet Captain Smithers, my right-hand man, God, he's really the strength of this office. His talent is simply boundless."

Smithers was summoned and introduced to the new CO, who was surprised to meet a toothless, hairless, scabbed and pockmarked specimen of humanity, a particularly unattractive man less than three foot tall.

"Smithers, old man, tell your new CO about yourself."

"Well, sir, I graduated with honours from Sandhurst, joined the regiment and won the Military Cross and Bar after three expeditions behind enemy lines.

I've represented Great Britain in equestrian events and won a Silver Medal in the middleweight boxing division of the Olympics. I have researched the history of..."

Here the colonel interrupted, "Yes, yes, never mind that Smithers, the CO can find all that in your file.

Tell him about the day you told the local witch doctor to get f$%ked."

[pistonbroke]

The wife being the romantic sort, sent me a text......

"If you are sleeping, send me your dreams. If you are laughing, send me your smile. If you are eating, send me a bite. If you are drinking, send me a sip. If you are crying, send me your tears. I love you."

........ "I'm taking a poop. What should I do?"

This actually made me cry laughing !!

[ham2]

Especially for Copey; a little airway humour:

===========================================================================================

Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles!"

Delta 351: "Give us another hint! We have digital watches!"

________________________________________________________________________

Tower: "TWA 2341, for noise abatement turn right 45 Degrees."

TWA 2341: "Centre, we are at 35,000 feet. How much noise can we

make up here?"

Tower:

"Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a

727?"

__________________________________________________________

From an unknown aircraft waiting in a very long takeoff queue: "I'm f....ing bored!"

Ground Traffic Control:

"Last aircraft transmitting, identify yourself immediately!"

Unknown aircraft: "I said I was f...ing bored, not f....ing stupid!"

_______________________________________

O'Hare Approach Control to a 747: "United 329 heavy, your traffic is a

Fokker, one o'clock, three miles, Eastbound."

United 329: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this...I've got the

little Fokker in sight."

_______________________________________

A DC-10 had come in a little hot and thus had an exceedingly long roll out after

touching down. San Jose Tower Noted:

"American 751, make a hard right turn at the end of the runway, if

you are able. If you are not able, take the Guadeloupe exit off

Highway 101, make a right at the lights and return to the airport."

_________________________________________

A Pan Am 727 flight, waiting for start clearance in Munich, overheard the following:

Lufthansa (in German): "Ground, what is our start clearance time?"

Ground (in English): "If you want an answer you must speak in English."

Lufthansa (in English): "I am a German, flying a German airplane, in

Germany. Why must I speak English?"

Unknown voice from another plane (in a beautiful British accent):

"Because you lost the bloody war!"

____________________________________________________________________________________

Tower: "Eastern 702, cleared for takeoff, contact Departure on frequency 124.7"

Eastern 702: "Tower, Eastern 702 switching to Departure.

By the way, after we lifted off we saw some kind of dead animal on

the far end of the runway."

Tower: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff behind Eastern 702,

contact Departure on frequency 124.7. Did you copy that report

from Eastern 702?"

Continental 635:

"Continental 635, cleared for takeoff, roger; and yes, we copied

Eastern... We've already notified our caterers."

_________________________________________

One day the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of the active runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out, turned around, and taxied back past the Cherokee. Some quick-witted comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said,

"What a cute little plane. Did you make it all by yourself?"

The Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by, came back with a real zinger:

"I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing like yours and I'll

have enough parts for another one."

________________________________________

The German air controllers at Frankfurt Airport are renowned as a short-tempered lot.

They not only expect one to know one's gate parking location, but how to get there without any

assistance from them. So it was with some amusement that we (a Pan Am 747) listened to the

following exchange between Frankfurt ground control and a British Airways 747, call sign

Speedbird 206.

Speedbird 206:

"Frankfurt, Speedbird 206! Clear of active runway."

Ground: "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven."

The BA 747 pulled onto the main taxiway and slowed to a stop.

Ground: "Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"

Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location

now."

Ground (with quite arrogant impatience):

"Speedbird 206, have you not been to Frankfurt before?"

Speedbird 206 (coolly):

"Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark, -- And I didn't land."

________________________________________

While taxiing at London's Airport, the crew of a US Air flight departing for Ft. Lauderdale made a wrong turn and came nose to nose with a United 727.

An irate female ground controller lashed out at the US Air crew, screaming: "US Air 2771, where the hell are you going? I told you to turn right onto Charlie taxiway! You turned right on Delta! Stop right there. I know it's difficult for you to tell the difference between C and D, but get it right!"

Continuing her rage to the embarrassed crew, she was now shouting hysterically:

"God! Now you've screwed everything up! It'll take forever to sort

this out! You stay right there and don't move till I tell you to! You

can expect progressive taxi instructions in about half an hour,

and I want you to go exactly where I tell you, when I tell you, and

how I tell you! You got that, US Air 2771?"

"Yes, ma'am," the humbled crew responded. Naturally, the ground control

communications frequency fell terribly silent after the verbal bashing of US Air 2771. Nobody

wanted to chance engaging the irate ground controller in her current state of mind.. Tension in

every cockpit out around Gatwick was definitely running high. Just then an unknown pilot broke

the silence and keyed his microphone, asking: "Wasn't I married to you once?"

[b40rt]

Now this is what I call progress

http://www.austin-yang.com/index.php?/projects/iturntable/

[guys]

Now this is what I call progress

http://www.austin-ya...cts/iturntable/

It's missing one vital function: