The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes (7 page)

Dear Marge,

I am a sailor in the Australian Navy. My parents live in the suburbs of Melbourne, and one of my sisters, who lives in Dandenong, is married to a guy from Salford, England. My mum and dad are awaiting trial for the sale of Class A drugs and are currently dependent on my two sisters, who are prostitutes in Canberra. I also have two brothers: one who is currently serving a non-parole life sentence for the rape and murder of a teenage boy in 2004, the other is currently being held on remand on charges of incest with his three children. I have recently become engaged to marry a former Thai prostitute who is currently a part-time working girl in a Melbourne brothel. Unfortunately her time there is limited, as she has recently been infected with HIV AIDS. We intend to marry as soon as possible and are currently looking into the possibility of opening our own brothel with my fiancée using her knowledge of the industry working as the brothel madam. We are hoping my two sisters will be interested in joining our team. Although I would prefer them not to prostitute themselves at least it would get them off the streets and hopefully the heroin. My problem is this: I love my fiancée and look forward to bringing her into the family and of course I want to be totally honest with her. Should I tell her about my brother-in-law being a Manchester United fan?

There’s always light at the end of the tunnel.

My friend is an agoraphobic homosexual. He’s been trying to come out of the closet for thirty years.

What’s the difference between AIDS and cancer?

When you have cancer you still get visitors.

I read once that you can get AIDS from a mosquito. If you ask me, anyone sick enough to have sex with a mosquito deserves to get AIDS.

“Doctor, can I get AIDS from a toilet seat?”

A man went to his doctor after a brief but debilitating illness. The doctor, after a lengthy examination, looked him in the eye and said, “I’ve some bad news for you . . . you have a cancer and it can’t be cured. I give you two weeks to a month.” The man was shocked and saddened by the news, but being a man of solid character, managed to compose himself and walk from the doctor’s office to meet his son, who was waiting for him outside.

“Son,” he said, “as Rudyard Kipling once said, if you can meet with triumph and disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same – you’ll be a man. It turns out that I have cancer and I’ve been given a short time to live. But we’re going to celebrate my life. Let’s head for the pub and have a few pints.”

His son was shocked at first, but after three or four pints the two were feeling a little less sombre. They had a laugh, shed a few tears and drank some more beers. After a while, they were eventually approached by some of the man’s old friends, who asked what the two were celebrating. He told his friends, “I’ve only got a few weeks to live as I have been diagnosed with AIDS.” The friends gave him their condolences and they all had a few more beers.

After his friends left, the man’s son leaned over and whispered in confusion, “Dad, you are dying of cancer. Why did you tell your friends that you are dying of AIDS?”

“Well, son,” the father replied, “I don’t want them fucking your mother when I’m gone.”

A man goes to the doctor’s to get his test results. The doctor tells him: “I’m not going to beat around the bush. You have AIDS.”

The man is devastated. “Doctor, what can I do?”

“Eat one curried sausage, one head of cabbage, twenty unpeeled carrots drenched in hot sauce, ten chilli peppers, fifty walnuts, a box of grape nuts cereal, then top it off with a gallon of prune juice.”

The man asks, bewildered, “Will that cure me?”