The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes (30 page)

“But remember,” says his dad, “get any slut except Sandpaper Sally.”

The teenager thanks his dad and heads for the brothel. When he gets there he discovers that all of the girls are busy except for Sandpaper Sally, so he decides to come back later. After about an hour, he returns, but yet again the only girl available is Sandpaper Sally. “Okay,” he says to himself, “screw it, I am not waiting any longer, I’ll take my chances with her.”

A couple of minutes after penetration he discovers that his dick is as sore as hell. “Owww!” he complains. “That really hurts!”

She replies, “Hang on a minute.” So she goes to the bathroom for about ten minutes then comes out. They start having sex again. “Wow,” says the teenager, “that feels much better. How do you do it?”

“Oh,” she replies, “I just picked my scabs.”

A lorry driver from Birmingham who has been driving around Europe for two weeks stops at a brothel outside Amsterdam. He walks straight up to the madam, drops £300 and says, “I want your ugliest woman and a grilled cheese sandwich.”

The madam is astonished. “For that kind of money you could have one of my best girls and a three-course meal.”

The driver replies, “I’m not horny, I’m just homesick.”

What do you call children born in whorehouses?

Brothel sprouts
.

One day at the brothel, the girls are surprised to see a young boy enter, aged about nine. In his hand is a length of string, which is fastened around the neck of what appears to be a lifeless frog. The boy picks the frog up and places the deceased amphibian on to the counter, and says, “I want a bitch with herpes.”

The madam is flabbergasted. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said ‘I want a bitch with herpes’,” replies the child.

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t have any ladies that ft that description,” says the madam.

“I want a bitch with herpes and I am not leaving until I get a bitch with herpes,” says the boy, placing £1,000 on the counter, next to the dead frog.

The madam considers her options for a while and sends for one of her many venereally challenged sluts. The boy follows the girl to her room, his dead frog trailing behind him. After an hour or so of Lord knows what, the boy returns to the counter, frog in tow, to thank the madam. She takes this opportunity to ask the question that had been puzzling her for the previous hour, “Why did you want a whore with herpes?”

“Well,” explains the boy, “my parents are going out tonight. In the evening I’m going to shag my babysitter. When my dad drives her back home, he’s going to shag her. Then he’s going home to shag mum. In the morning she’s going to shag the milkman. He’s going to shag his wife, she’s going to shag her boss, he’s going to fuck his wife, my English teacher, and she’s going to fuck my headmaster. And he’s the cunt who killed my frog!”

What was the difference between Joseph Fritzl and Fred West?

One supported his victims in the cellar, the other supported the cellar with his victims.

Two builders went into the bar after a hard day’s work. They had been sitting drinking for a while when a very smartly dressed man walked in and ordered a beer. The two began to speculate about what the man did for a living.

“I’ll bet he’s a banker,” said the first builder.

“Looks more like a hedge fund manager to me,” argued the second. They continued to debate the subject for a while until eventually the first builder went to use the toilet, where he saw the smartly dressed man standing at the urinal.

“Excuse me, but me and my mate have been arguing over what a smartly dressed bloke like you might do for a living?” the builder said to the man.

The man replied, smiling, “I’m a logician.”

“A what?” asked the builder.

“Let me explain,” the man continued, “Do you have a goldfish at home?”

A bit puzzled, the builder replied, “Yes, I do, as it happens.”

“Well, then it’s logical to assume that you either keep it in a bowl or a pond. Which is it?”

“A pond,” the builder replied.

“Well, then it’s logical to assume that you have a big garden.” The builder nodded his agreement. The man continued, “Which means that it is quite logical to assume you have a large house.”

“Yep, I have a six-bedroom house I built myself,” the builder said proudly.

“Okay, given that you have such a large house, it is also logical to assume that you have a wife.”

The builder nodded again, “Yes, I’m married and we have four kids.”

“Then it’s logical to assume that you have a healthy sex life.”

“Five nights a week!” the builder boasted.

The man smiled, “Therefore it’s logical to assume you don’t masturbate often.”

“Never!” the builder exclaimed.

“Well, there you have it,” the man explained. “That’s logical science at work. From finding out that you have a goldfish, I’ve discovered the size of your garden, all about your house, your family and your sex life!”

The builder left, hugely impressed. When he returned to the bar the other builder asked, “Did you find out what he does?”

“Yeah,” replied the first, “he’s a logician.”

“A what?” the puzzled second builder asked.

“Let me explain,” the first builder continued. “Do you have a goldfish at home?”

“No,” replied his mate.

“Well, you’re a wanker, then!”

A young family moved into a house on a new housing estate next door to a vacant building plot. A couple of weeks later a gang of construction workers turned up to start building a house on the empty plot. The young family’s five-year-old daughter took an interest in all the activity going on next door and sat on her garden swing, watching the workers. They got to know her name and by the end of the summer they more or less adopted the little girl as a sort of project mascot. They chatted with her, let her sit with them while they had tea and lunch breaks and gave her little jobs to do here and there to make her feel important. They even gave her her very own little hard hat and visibility vest.

One Friday they gave her a little wages envelope containing £2 in 10p coins. The little girl took her pay home to her mum, who suggested that they take the money she had earned to the bank the next day to start a savings account.

When they got to the bank the cashier was tickled pink by the story of the little girl and her job on the building site and her little pay packet. “You must have worked very hard to earn all this,” said the bank cashier.

The little girl replied, “I worked all last week with the men building a big house.”

“Goodness me,” said the cashier. “And will you be working on the house again this week as well?”