The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes (107 page)

Crows will eat the badger.

A lawyer married a woman who had previously divorced ten husbands. On their wedding night, she told her new husband, “Please be gentle with me, I’m still a virgin.”

“What?” said the astonished groom. “How can you possibly be a virgin? You told me you’ve already been married ten times?”

“It’s true,” she explains, “but I’ve been very unlucky in love. My first husband Ken was a sales rep. All he ever did was tell me how great it was going to be.

“My second husband Martin worked for a software company. He was never really sure how it was supposed to work, but he said he’d look into it and get back to me. My third husband Desmond was a feld technician. He said everything checked out diagnostically but he just couldn’t get the system up.

“My fourth husband Thomas was in customer services: even though he knew he had the order, he didn’t know when he would be able to deliver. My fifth husband Fred was an engineer: he understood the basic process but wanted three years to research, implement and design a new state-of-the-art method.

“My sixth husband Bernard was in fnance and administration: he thought he knew how, but he wasn’t sure whether it was his job or not. My seventh husband Richard was in marketing: he had a decent product, but he was never sure how to position it. My eighth husband Roy was a psychologist: all he ever did was talk about it. Husband number nine was a gynaecologist: all he did was look at it. My tenth husband Tim was a stamp collector. God! I miss him! Anyway, now that I’ve married you I’m really excited!”

“Great, I’m pleased to hear it,” said the new husband, “but why?”

“You’re a lawyer. This time I know I’m going to get fucked.”

A big city lawyer went pheasant hunting in the Scottish lowlands. He shot and dropped a bird, but it fell into a farmer’s feld on the other side of a fence. As the lawyer was climbing over the fence to retrieve the game bird, an old farmer drove up on his tractor and asked him what he was doing.

The lawyer responded, “I shot a pheasant and it fell in your feld. Now I’m going to get it back.”

“No you’re not,” the old farmer replied. “This is my property and you are not coming over here.”

The lawyer smiled. “I have to tell you that I am one of the best trial attorneys in the country and if you don’t let me retrieve that bird, I will sue you and take everything you own.”

The old farmer smiled back. “You don’t how we settle disputes around these parts. We settle small disagreements like this with the ‘Three Kick Rule’.”

The lawyer asked, “What is the ‘Three Kick Rule’?”

The farmer replied, “Well, because the dispute occurs on my land, I get to go first. I kick you three times, and then you kick me three times, and so on until one of us gives up.”

The lawyer considered the proposed contest carefully and decided that he could easily take the old man. He agreed to abide by the local custom. The old farmer slowly climbed down from the tractor and walked up to the lawyer. His first kick planted the toe of his heavy steel-toed work boot into the lawyer’s balls, dropping him to his knees. His second kick was to the midriff, causing the lawyer to throw up his last meal. With the lawyer helpless on all fours, spitting blood and vomit, the farmer’s third kick to his rear end sent him face-first into a fresh cow pat.

Eventually the lawyer managed to pull himself to his feet. Wiping the blood and the puke from his face with the arm of his jacket, he said, “Okay, old man, now it’s my turn.”

The old farmer smiled and said, “Nah, you’re all right, I give up. You can have the pheasant.”

A couple are on their way to get married when they are involved in a fatal head-on car crash. They find themselves sitting outside the pearly gates, waiting for St Peter to fnish the paperwork so they can enter. “Excuse me,” the man says to St Peter, “but we were on our way to get married when we were killed. Is there any chance we could finish what we set out to do and get married up here?”

“Hmmm. I don’t know,” says St Peter. “This is the first time anyone has ever asked. Let me go fnd out.”

The couple sit waiting and begin to have second thoughts about whether or not they really should get married in Heaven, what with the eternal aspect of it all. What if it doesn’t work out? Are they stuck together forever?

After a huge amount of time, St Peter returns, looking somewhat fustered. “Yes,” he informs the couple, “you can get married in Heaven.”

“Terrific,” the couple respond. “But we have another question. What if things don’t work out? Could we also get a divorce in Heaven?”

St Peter, clearly angered, petulantly throws his clipboard on to the ground.

“We’re so sorry!” exclaim the anxious couple. “Did we say something wrong?”

St Peter exclaims, “It took me three months to find a priest up here! Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take for me to find a fucking lawyer?”

A woman went to her doctor for advice. She told him that her husband had developed a taste for anal sex and she was not sure that it was such a good idea. The doctor asked her, “Do you enjoy it?”

She said that she did. He asked, “Does it hurt you?” She replied that it did. The doctor then told her, “Well, then, there’s no reason that you shouldn’t practice anal sex, if that’s what you like, so long as you take care not to get pregnant.”

The woman was mystifed. “You can get pregnant from anal sex?”

The doctor replied, “Of course. Where do you think lawyers come from?”

What’s the difference between a lawyer and a prostitute?

The prostitute stops fucking you after you’re dead.

How can you tell if a valentine card is from a leper?

The tongue is still in the envelope.

What did the leper say to the prostitute?