Once upon a time in a purple universe there was a purple planet and on this purple planet was a purple land with purple houses where purple villagers lived.
Near to the purple village was a purple hilltop, and on this purple hilltop was a purple palace. Past the purple gates of the purple palace and up the purple path, through the grand purple doors, guarded by purple knights, sat a purple king in a purple throne room on a purple throne next to his purple queen.
One day the purple king held a meeting for the purple people of purple in his purple meeting room in his purple palace. He said to the purple people of purple, “Purple people of purple, I will give the greatest reward in the history of this purple planet to the purple person who makes me the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world.”
One purple villager decided that he would make the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world, so he left the purple meeting room through the purple doors, past the purple gates, down the purple path to his purple cottage, down his purple stairs leading to his purple cellar, where his purple beer-making machine was housed, and brewed the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world. When he was satisfied that it was indeed the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world, he left his purple cottage, ran up the purple street to the purple king’s purple palace, through the purple gates, past the purple doors to the purple throne room and presented the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world to the purple king who was sitting on his purple throne next to his purple queen.
The purple king took a sip of the purple beer from the purple glass but immediately spat it out on to the purple carpet that covered the purple floor of the purple throne room of his purple palace. “Yuk!” he groaned. “That’s the most disgusting purple beer in the entire purple world. But, purple person, because I’m a fair purple king, I will give you one more chance to make the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world.”
So once again the purple person of this purple land left the purple palace, went down the purple street to his purple cottage, down his purple stairs to his purple cellar, where his purple beermaking machine was housed, and brewed what he hoped would be the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world. When he was satisfied that it was indeed the tastiest purple beer in the entire purple world, he left his purple cottage, ran up the purple street through the purple gates of the purple palace, past the purple guards and into the purple throne room where the purple king sat on his purple throne next to his purple queen. The purple person presented the purple beer and the purple king sipped the purple beer from the purple glass but immediately spat it out on to the purple carpet that covered the purple throne room of the purple palace.
“Ughh!” screamed the purple king. “That purple beer is even worse than your last purple beer! Purple person, you have disrespected this purple kingdom and everything purple that this purple land represents. Purple guards, take this purple person to the purple dungeons!”
So the purple guards led the purple person across the purple throne room, through the purple hall to a purple door that led to purple stairs, which descended to the purple dungeons. When they reached the purple dungeons, the chief purple guard took out a purple key, put it in the purple lock, opened the purple door, turned to the purple prisoner and told him, “Indigo…”
One day in the jungle a chimpanzee made some tools to eat his dinner. Among the tools was a flat stick sharpened along one edge, which the chimp used to cut his food. The other was a stick with four smaller sticks attached to the end, each sharpened to a point. The chimp used this tool to spear his food and place it in his mouth. The chimp was justifiably proud of his inventions, which he called his one-point tool and his four-point tool.
One day he awoke to find that the four-point tool was missing. The chimp was distraught. He ran around the jungle trying to find his precious tool.
First he came upon the lion.
“Lion, lion!” he cried. “Have you seen my four-point tool?”
“No,” replied the lion. “I have not seen your four-point tool.”
Then the chimp came upon the gorilla.
“Gorilla, gorilla!” he cried. “Have you seen my four-point tool?”
“No,” replied the gorilla. “I have not seen your four-point tool.”
Then the chimp came upon the jaguar.
“Jaguar, jaguar!” he cried. “Have you seen my four-point tool?”
“Yes,” replied the jaguar. “I have seen your four-point tool.”
“Well where is it?” asked the chimp.
“I ate it,” the jaguar said.
“Why would you do that?” cried the chimp.
“Because,” replied the big cat, “I am a four-point tool eater Jaguar.”
Many years ago, a fisherman and his wife had twin sons, but they didn’t know what to name them. The husband said, “Let’s be patient. If we wait long enough, the names will simply occur to us.” After several weeks, they noticed something peculiar about the children. When left alone, one boy would face the sea, and the other would face inland.
“Let’s call the boys Toward and Away,” suggested the fisherman, and his wife agreed.
Years passed, and one day the fisherman told his adult sons, “It’s time that you learned how to make a living from the sea.” The fisherman and his sons provisioned their ship and set sail for a three-month voyage. At the voyage’s end, the fisherman returned alone.
“What happened?” his wife cried.
“We were barely one day out to sea,” the fisherman explained solemnly, “when Toward hooked a great fish. Toward fought long and hard, but the fish was great and strong. For an entire week they wrestled upon the waves, yet eventually the great fish started to win the battle, and Toward was pulled over the side. He was swallowed whole, and we never saw either of them again.”
“Oh dear!” the wife cried. “What a huge fish that must have been! What a terrible fish! What a horrible fish!”
“Yes, it was,” said the fisherman, “but you should have seen the one that got Away.”
In a land of primitive tribes and grass huts lived one tribe that was very warlike. They won numerous battles and took control of many other tribes.
One of their victory customs was to take the most prized possession of the vanquished tribe’s chief.
Once, after a particularly fierce battle, they defeated a rich tribe, whose king had a much-prized solid gold throne.
The warlike tribe seized the throne and put it in the loft in their own chief’s house. Unfortunately, the throne was much too heavy to be kept in a loft in a grass house, and it fell right through the ceiling on to the chief, killing him instantly.
The moral of this story is that people who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.
A man was sitting by his car at the side of the road looking unhappy. A passer-by saw his glum face and asked what the problem was.
“I’ve locked myself out of my car,” replied the man.
“That’s not a problem,” said the passer-by. “Step out of the way, and let me have a look.”
The motorist was a bit perplexed, but decided there was no harm in letting the man try. So the passer-by turned around, and rubbed his legs slowly up and down the driver’s door. Suddenly, the lock opened and the man turned and opened the car door.
“That’s amazing!” said the motorist. “How did you do it?”
“It’s easy,” replied the pedestrian. “I’m wearing khaki trousers.”
Carlos the ice-cream man’s van is parked at the side of the road, lights flashing and music playing. A long queue of excited kids stretches down the street. But there’s no sign of Carlos.
A policeman walking down the road wonders what is going on. Where is Carlos? Why is he not dishing out the ice cream?
He goes over to the van and peers over the high counter. On the floor he spots Carlos lying very still covered in chocolate sauce, strawberry sauce, nuts and sprinkles.
“Get back, kids,” the officer shouts. He moves away so that the children cannot overhear him and gets on the radio to the station.
“Sergeant, you’d better get a team down here quick,” he says. “It’s Carlos the ice-cream man. He’s topped himself.”
Alfred Lord Tennyson went to Africa on safari. While there he became separated from the rest of his party and was eaten alive by Laurie, a lion that was the mascot of a local village chieftain. But after swallowing Tennyson, the big cat was stricken with a severe case of indigestion and brought him back up again. Against all the odds, Tennyson had survived.
News of the attack on Tennyson spread like wildfire. After wandering dazed through the jungle for a few hours, he limped into the village seeking help, and told the chieftain what had happened.
“Ah,” said the chieftain, “you must be the poet Laurie ate.”
A piece of string walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender throws it out saying, “We don’t serve string in here.”
The string goes outside, ties itself into a knot and backcombs its hair. It walks back into the bar and orders a beer.
The bartender says, “Aren’t you that piece of string I threw out earlier?”
The piece of string replies, “No, I’m a frayed not.”
A British couple on holiday in Greece stepped out of their hotel on the first night and explored the town looking for somewhere to eat. There were dozens of restaurants and outside each one a waiter was poised ready to pounce. As soon as the couple showed the slightest interest in a particular menu, the waiter of that establishment would try to persuade them to dine there. But the couple resented the sales push and continued on their way.
After nearly an hour of searching for a good restaurant, they were starting to feel tired and hungry. They reached a street corner on which there were three restaurants and decided to choose one of them.
The moment they glanced at the menu outside the first restaurant, a little waiter appeared and offered them a table. They said they hadn’t decided yet and wanted to study the menus at the other two restaurants.
At the second restaurant, another little waiter – no more than five feet tall – tried to induce them inside, but again they said they were undecided and wanted to study the menu at the third restaurant.
When they looked at the menu outside the third restaurant, a much taller waiter appeared. But there was something strange about him. His body and legs were no longer than those of the other two waiters but his shoes had been built up to make him look taller and more imposing. The husband was immediately suspicious of him.
“I don’t think we should eat here,” he said.
“Why not?” asked the wife.
“Because you know what they say – beware of Greeks wearing lifts.”
A young boy had a job bagging groceries at a supermarket. One day the store decided to install a machine for squeezing fresh orange juice. The young lad was most intrigued by this and asked if he could be allowed to work the machine. The manager refused, but the youngster couldn’t understand why.
The store manager explained, “Sorry, kid, but baggers can’t be juicers.”
Artie gets tired of working so hard and not getting anywhere, and seeing all these guys in the Mafia in their fine three-piece suits and fancy cars, decides that he, too, has to join the Mafia.
He goes up to one of the guys and says, “I want to join the Mafia.”
The guy answers, “Have you ever killed anyone for money?”
Artie answers, “No.”
The guy says, “Well, you’ve either got to be born into the Mafia, or you’ve got to kill somebody for money.”
So Artie says, “How much will you pay me if I kill someone?”
“I’m not going to pay you,” replies the guy.
Artie says, “Please, just pay me a dollar so I can get in.”
The guy says, “Okay, I’ll tell you what. You kill somebody, tell me about it, and if I see it in the morning paper, I’ll pay you a dollar.”
Artie thanks the man and heads off on his mission. He goes to Ralph’s Supermarket, sees an old lady pushing a cart, and deciding that she’s lived a full life, goes up to her, grabs her round the neck and chokes her to death.
The bag boy sees him, and chases after him. Artie realizes that he can’t outrun the bag boy, turns around, grabs the bag boy by the neck and chokes him to death.
The next day, the local newspaper’s front page headline reads: Artie Chokes Two For a Dollar at Ralph’s.
One night, the Potato family sat down to dinner, Mother Potato and her three daughters. Midway through the meal, the eldest daughter spoke up. “Mother Potato,” she said, “I have an announcement to make.”
“And what might that be?” said Mother, seeing the obvious excitement in her eldest daughter’s eyes.
“Well,” replied the daughter, with a proud but sheepish grin, “I’m getting married!”
The other daughters squealed with surprise as Mother Potato exclaimed, “Married! That’s wonderful! And who are you marrying?”
“I’m marrying a Russet!”
“A Russet!” replied Mother Potato with pride. “Oh, a Russet is a fine tater, a fine tater indeed!”
As the family shared in the eldest daughter’s joy, the middle daughter spoke up. “Mother, I, too, have an announcement.”
“And what might that be?” asked Mother Potato encouragingly.
Not knowing quite how to begin, the middle daughter paused, then said with conviction, “I, too, am getting married!”
“You, too!” Mother Potato said with joy. “That’s wonderful! Twice the good news in one evening! And who are you marrying?”
“I’m marrying an Idaho!” beamed the middle daughter.
“An Idaho!” said Mother Potato with joy. “Oh, an Idaho is a fine tater, a fine tater indeed!”
Once again, the room came alive with laughter and excited plans for the future, when the youngest Potato daughter interrupted. “Mother! Mother Potato! Um, I, too, have an announcement to make.”
“Yes?” said Mother Potato with great anticipation.
“Well,” began the youngest Potato daughter with the same sheepish grin as her eldest sister before her. “I hope this doesn’t come as a shock to you, but I am getting married, as well!”
“Really?” said Mother Potato with sincere excitement. “All of my lovely daughters married! What wonderful news! And who, pray tell, are you marrying?”
“I’m marrying John Motson.”
“John Motson?” Mother Potato scowled suddenly. “But he’s just a common tater!”
Driving to work, a man had to swerve to avoid a box that fell out of a truck in front of him. Seconds later, a policeman pulled him over for reckless driving. Fortunately, another officer had seen the carton in the road and he stopped the traffic and recovered the box. It was found to contain large upholstery tacks.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the first police officer told the driver, “but I am still going to have to write you a ticket.”
Amazed, the driver asked what offence he was supposed to have committed.
The officer replied, “Tacks evasion.”
Joe and Frank were at work in their office and noticed that someone had put up a suggestion box with some blank cards next to it. Both decided that this was a great idea, and each took a card to fill out.
Joe wrote: “The office workers should all be given raises!”
When he looked at Frank’s card, it said: “Can we all have raises, and keys to the executive washroom, and personal secretaries, and new company cars, and new coffee cups, and longer lunch breaks, and an extra three weeks’ vacation each year, and a holiday on St Patrick’s day, and Columbus day, and Martin Luther King’s birthday?”
Joe said, “Frank, that isn’t the right way of getting things changed around here. You shouldn’t put all of your begs in one ask-it.”
Two young men were out in the woods on a camping trip, when they came upon a great trout brook. They stayed there all day, enjoying the fishing, which was superb.
At the end of the day, knowing that they would soon be graduating from college, they vowed that they would meet again in twenty years at the same place and renew the experience.
Twenty years later as planned, they met and travelled to a location close to that very spot where they had enjoyed such a wonderful day all those years before. They walked into the woods and before long came upon a brook. One of the men said to the other, “This is the place!”
The other replied, “No, it’s not.”
The first man said, “Yes, it is. I recognize the clover growing on the bank on the other side.”
To which the other man replied, “Don’t be silly, you can’t tell a brook by its clover.”
A local police officer had just finished his shift one cold November evening and was at home with his wife. “You just won’t believe what happened this evening,” he said. “In all my years on the force I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Oh yes, dear, what happened?” his wife asked.
The officer replied, “I came across two guys down by the canal. One of them was drinking battery acid and the other was eating fireworks.”
“Drinking battery acid and eating fireworks! What did you do with them?”
The officer said, “Oh, that was easy. I charged one and let the other off.”
A man was famous the world over for growing tulips. People used to travel for hundreds of miles to ask him the secret of how he managed to obtain such magnificent blooms from the bulbs but he remained extremely cagey, insisting, “I simply plant the bulbs and they all happen to come up perfect.”
Such was the interest in discovering the tulip grower’s recipe for success that one of his friends decided to get him drunk in the hope that he might spill the beans. After plying the tulip grower with wine, the friend popped the question, “So come on, you can tell me, what is it that you grow your tulips in?”
His tongue loosened, the grower replied, “I use hamsters.”
“What do you mean?” asked the friend. “How can hamsters help you produce such beautiful tulips?”
“Well, you see,” said the grower, “I have another farm where I breed hamsters – not just a few but thousands. Hamsters only live for a few years, and when they die, I put them into a special machine that mashes them into pulp. I then add sugar to turn the pulp into a jam, and that is what I spread over the fields before I plant the bulbs. It’s an old Dutch recipe – tulips from hamster jam.”
Bob Hill and his new wife Betty were on holiday in Salzburg, in Austria. They were driving in a rental car along a rather deserted highway. It was late and raining very hard. Bob could barely see twenty feet in front of the car.
Suddenly, the car skidded. Bob attempted to control it, but to no avail. The car swerved and smashed into a tree.
Moments later, Bob shook his head to clear the fog. Dazed, he looked over at the passenger seat and saw his wife unconscious, with her head bleeding. Despite the rain and unfamiliar countryside, Bob knew he had to carry her to the nearest phone.
Bob carefully picked up his wife and began trudging down the road. After a short while, he saw a light. He headed toward the light, which was coming from an old, large house. He approached the door and knocked.
A minute passed before a woman opened the door. Bob said, “Hello, my name is Bob Hill, and this is my wife Betty. We’ve been in a terrible accident, and my wife has been seriously hurt. Can I please use your phone?”
“I’m sorry,” replied the woman, “but we don’t have a phone. However, my husband is a doctor. I will get him for you.”
Bob brought his wife inside, and the doctor came down to look at her. “It is many miles to the nearest clinic,” he said, “but I will see what I can do.”
Bob carried Betty through to a spare bedroom before collapsing from exhaustion and his own injuries.
After conducting a brief examination, the doctor looked worried and told his wife that he didn’t think the couple would survive. Sure enough, they died a few hours later.
The Hills’ deaths upset the doctor greatly. Wearily, he went to his conservatory where he kept his grand piano, for it was there that he had always found solace. He began to play, and a stirring, almost haunting, melody filled the house.
Meanwhile, his wife was tidying the spare room, with the Hills still in it. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement, and she noticed the fingers on Betty’s hand twitch. Stunned, she watched as Bob’s leg then moved slightly. She stared in amazement as the couple slowly regained consciousness and sat up.
Unable to contain herself, she ran to the conservatory, burst in and shouted joyously to her husband, “The Hills are alive with the sound of music!”
Three creatures were arguing about who was the best. The first, a hawk, maintained that he was the best because he had great eyesight, could fly at speed and swoop on his prey from tremendous heights.
The second, a lion, insisted that he was the best because he was so strong – no other animal in the jungle would dare challenge him.
The third, a skunk, pointed out that he needed neither the power of flight or brute strength to see off an adversary.
As the three continued to debate the issue, a grizzly bear came along and swallowed them all – hawk, lion and stinker.
A man was working on the buses and collecting tickets. As he rang the bell for the driver to set off, a woman desperately tried to get on the bus. However, she had just one foot on board when the driver moved away. The woman fell from the bus and was killed.
At the subsequent trial the man was sent down for murder, and, because it was Texas, he was sent to the electric chair. On the day of his execution he was sitting in the chair when the executioner granted him a final wish.
“Well,” said the man, “is that your packed lunch over there?”
“Yes,” answered the executioner.
“Please can I have that green banana?”
The executioner gave the man his green banana and waited until he’d eaten it. When the man had finished, the executioner flipped the switch, sending hundreds of volts through him. When the smoke cleared, the man was still alive. The executioner couldn’t believe it.
“Can I go?” the man asked.
“I suppose so,” said the executioner. “That’s never happened before.”
The man left and eventually got his job back on the buses, selling tickets. Once again he rang the bell for the driver to go when people were still getting on. As a result of his recklessness, a woman fell under the wheels and was killed.
The man was again convicted of murder and sent to the electric chair.
The executioner was determined to do it right this time, so he rigged the chair up to the electric supply for the whole of the town. The man was again seated in the chair.
“What is your final wish?” asked the executioner.
“Can I have that green banana in your packed lunch?” said the condemned man.
The executioner sighed and reluctantly gave up his banana.
The man ate the banana and the executioner flipped the switch. Thousands of volts coursed through the chair, blacking out the town. When the smoke cleared, the man was still sitting there, smiling, in the chair. The executioner couldn’t believe it and let the man go.
The man got his job back on the buses, selling tickets. Yet again he made the mistake of ringing the bell for the driver to go while passengers were still getting on, this time killing three of them. He was sent to the electric chair again.
The executioner rigged up all of the state’s electricity to the chair, determined to get his man this time. The man sat down in the chair smiling.
“What’s your final wish?” asked the executioner.
“Well,” said the man, “can I have that green banana out of your packed lunch?”
The executioner handed over his banana and the man ate it all, skin included.
The executioner pulled the handle and millions of volts surged through the chair, blacking out the whole of Texas. When the smoke rose, the man was still sitting there alive without even a burn mark.
“I give up,” said the executioner. “I don’t understand how you can still be alive after all that.” He stroked his chin. “It’s something to do with that green banana, isn’t it?” he asked.
“No,” said the man, “I’m just a bad conductor.”
A sealife centre prided itself on its performing animals – killer whales, dolphins and sea lions – but had struggled to find a suitably spectacular routine for the otters. So one of the keepers was given the job of trying to teach an otter to walk backwards, but after three months he was still not having any success. Eventually, in despair, he asked another keeper to see if he could train the otter. Amazingly, within two days the otter was walking backwards.
“How did you do it?” asked the first keeper. “How did you manage to get the otter to walk backwards?”
“It was easy,” replied the second keeper. “You just put one foot in front of the otter.”
A man was getting a haircut prior to a trip to Rome. He mentioned the trip to the barber who responded, “Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty and full of Italians. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”
“We’re taking British Airways,” the man replied. “We got a great rate.”
“British Airways?” said the barber. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are useless, and their flights are always delayed. So, where are you staying in Rome?”
“We’ll be at the downtown International Marriott.”
“That dump! That’s the worst hotel in the city. The rooms are small, the service is surly and they’re overpriced. So, what will you be doing when you get there?”
“We’re going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope.”
“That’s rich!” laughed the barber. “You and a million other people trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours! You’re going to need it.”
A month later, the man again came in for his regular haircut. The barber asked him about his trip to Rome.
“It was wonderful,” explained the man. “Not only were we on one of British Airways’ brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and the stewardesses were very attentive and helpful. The flight was bang on time, so we didn’t miss a minute of our trip. The hotel was great, they’d just finished a twenty-five million dollar refurbishment and now it’s the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us the presidential suite at no extra charge!”
“Well,” muttered the barber, “I bet you didn’t get to see the Pope?”
“Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors personally, and if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would come to greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down as he spoke a few words to me.”
“Really?” asked the barber. “What did he say?”
“He said, ‘Where did you get that lousy haircut?’”
A nineteenth-century English landlady had a couple of struggling poets for tenants. When the pair fell behind with their rent, she tried to evict them but when that failed, she took drastic action and decided to murder them.
She baked a large scone, inserted some arsenic and invited them down for tea. The hungry poets devoured the scone and within an hour both were dead.
However, the landlady’s hopes of getting away with murder were shortlived and she was quickly arrested. Feigning innocence, she demanded to know what crime she was being charged with.
The police officer told her, “It seems, madam, that you have killed two bards with one scone.”
Mary Poppins was travelling home, but due to worsening weather, she decided to stop at a hotel for the night. She approached the receptionist and asked for a room.
“Certainly madam”, she replied courteously.
“Is the restaurant still open?” asked Mary.
“I’m afraid not,” came the reply. “But room service is available all night. Would you care to select something from this menu?”
Mary smiled, took the menu and perused it. “I would like cauliflower cheese please,” said Mary.
“Certainly madam,” he replied.
“And can I have breakfast in bed?” asked Mary politely. The receptionist nodded and smiled.
“In that case, I would love a couple of poached eggs, please,” Mary said. After confirming the order, Mary signed in and went up to her room for the night.
The night passed uneventfully and next morning Mary came down early to check out. The same guy was still on the desk.
“Morning madam. Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you,” Mary replied.
“Was the food to your liking?”
“Well, I have to say the cauliflower cheese was delicious, I don’t think I have had better. It was a shame about the eggs, though. They really weren’t that nice at all,” replied Mary truthfully.
“Oh. Well, perhaps you could contribute these thoughts to our Guest Comments Book. We are always looking to improve our service and would value your opinion,” said the receptionist.
Mary checked out, then scribbled a comment into the book. Waving goodbye, she left to continue her journey.
Curious, the receptionist picked up the book to see the comment Mary had written.
“Super cauliflower cheese but eggs were quite atrocious.”
A guy spent five years travelling all around the world, making a documentary on native dances. At the end of this period, he had every single native dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film – or so he thought. He wound up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he popped into a pub for a wellearned beer.
He got talking to one of the local Aborigines and told him about his project. The Aborigine asked the guy what he thought of the Butcher Dance.
“Butcher Dance?” he said, confused. “What’s that?”
“What?” asked the Aborigine. “You didn’t see the Butcher Dance?”
