If we wanted to do some writing, mostly we'd get together and fall about laughing at jokes we made up that were absolutely hysterical to us, but... not to anyone else. First rule of comedy: Other people must get the joke.
For reasons unknown one we did years ago has sprung back to mind. I've googled for it and it seems that no one, ever, anywhere has come up with anything as nearly as lame as it, which is astonishing and must be redressed. Therefore I must add it to the blogosphere at once.
"There was political intrigue inside the fridge. The 'conservative' foodstuffs faced off against their bitter Labour rivals, who were lead by a cooked chook. The left-leaning foods were determined to undo their foes, and so the drinks, from their exclusive vantage point in the door crisper, decided to infiltrate the conservative camp and report back with any information they could obtain. The other Labourite foods were skeptical at this plot, until the chook reassured them they had successfully placed a mole, a cunningly disguised bottle of Chardonnay in the conservative camp. Privately, the other Labour foods had misgivings about both the mole, and their leader. What did they say?
'Can a chicken catch a Tory with a white wine source?'"
Everyone I've ever told this too moans, some possibly to the point of hospitalisation. You have been warned. I blame Scott.
2 comments:
I remember well a Scott joke from before the days when the rule of 'funny to others' was envoked. And furthermore I remember you and he laughing...
Picture if you will a cold shed near Mudgee in rural NSW. A group of young men have spent the day rockclimbing and have just listened to “I’m sorry I’ll read that again” on the am car radio (it was the episode containing the wonderfully descriptive “he had beetling brows which met in the middle… of his back” and finished with “and next week how to make your aardvark soft again”). The young men know that they could be that funny if only they had been born closer to one of those great British universities Oxford, Cambridge or Hull. They are working on being funny and know that they are.
Skip to the future. If we were that funny, why is it the only jokes from that night which I can remember are from a BBC radio show first broadcast before we were born? That is to say I wish they were the only ones I could remember…
What is six feet tall and a unit of currency on Mars?
Dermott the Zogg.
I will concede that this joke was built on the foundations of a joke with the punch line “Kermit the Frog” and that not being a follower of AFL myself I may have Dermott’s height wrong. But still I think that this is indeed a joke with no redeeming features.
John Chisolm?! My goodness it has been a while.
Yes, very lame, however what I heard tonight truly plumbed the depths of lameness!
Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him ....... A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis!
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