The Greatest Pun Of All Time

Gemma Atkinson is wrong, anyway, because her tits are nasty and fake, and Myleene’s are natural and lovely. So there.

Ahem. What were we talking about, again?

My favourite pun ever comes (sadly) from a Sun headline, after (then) lower-league chancers Inverness Caledonian Thistle knocked high-fliers Celtic out of some Scottish cup or other :

SUPER CALLY GO BALLISTIC : CELTIC ARE ATROCIOUS

Man: Hello there, I’d like to purchase a watch.

Watchmaker: Analogue?

Man: No just the watch.

Man : Hello I would like to sign up for your Yoga classes…

Woman : How flexible are you?

Man : I can’t make Thursdays…

What do you call a japanese boxer who’s father has diarrhoea…

A slap-happy Jappy with a crap-happy pappy!

>wait until its Bill Withers.

Jesus Christ.

:D

It was Christmas Eve I was walking to the village church for the late night carol service. As I strolled down the road, I saw old Roger the farmer, stood in a field with a shetland pony. He was caressing it gently with his hands, running them up and down it’s back and mane.

“Are you not coming to the carol service Roger?” I called.

“Ahh not tonight,” replied the farmer.

“But it’ll do you good, a big old sing-along, it clears your chest!” I said.

“I know,” replied Roger, “But I’m feeling a little horse at the moment.”

It was Christmas Eve I was walking to the village church for the late night carol service. As I strolled down the road, I saw old Brutus the farmer, stood in a field with his wife. He was stabbing her continuously in both eyes with a big knife.

?Are you not coming to the carol service Brutus?? I called.

?Ahh not tonight,? replied the farmer.

?But it?ll do you good, a big old sing-along, it clears your chest!? I said.

?I know,? replied Brutus, ?But I?m stabbing my wife in the face at the moment.?

I knew this kid at school was really into tractors. He was completely obsessed with them, to the extent that his father had to intervene. He said “son, I’m worried about you and your tractor fascination. It’s just not normal. You need to give it up. Tell you what, if you can make it through til the end of the week without reading your tractor magazines, or watching your tractor videos, I’ll take you to McDonalds for your tea on Friday.”

And so, the kid duly agreed. It was tough, but he made it through to the end of the week without any sort of tractor activities at all. His father kept his end of the bargain, and took him to McDonalds. On the way there, the son told the dad that he’d seen what a fool he’d been, and that he now thought that tractors were rubbish. He had absolutely no interest in tractors any more.

When they got to the counter to give their order, the fire alarm went off. There was a fire in the kitchen! With complete calm and composure, the boy walked into the kitchen, sucked all the flames and smoke up through his mouth, walked over to the door, and blew it all out safely in to the open air. The McDonalds staff were shocked, but delighted. As they offered the pair a free meal, the restaurant manager asked the father exactly how the boy did it.

“It’s all right,” said the dad, “he’s an ex-tractor fan.”

John, if you’re a fan of puns, I suspect you’d really like the works of the Marx Brothers (if you don’t already).

> John, if you?re a fan of puns, I suspect you?d really like the works of the Marx Brothers (if you don?t already).

John is possibly the biggest fan of puns in the world, and yet he has never seen Airplane!

He is serious. And, funnily enough, he IS called Shirley. Ian is just his stage name.

Do you like movies about gladiators?

> Ah, but has he ever seen a grown man naked?

That’s not as bad as the line that it replaced…

that’s the badger…

After Quasimodo’s death, the bishop of the Cathedral of Notre Dame sent word through the streets of Paris that a new bell ringer was needed.

The bishop decided that he would conduct the interviews personally and went up into the belfry to begin the screening process. After observing several applicants demonstrate their skills, he had decided to call it a day.

Just then, an armless man approached him and announced that he was there to apply for the bell ringer’s job. The bishop was incredulous. “You have no arms!”. “No matter,” said the man. “Observe!” And he began striking the bells with his face, producing a beautiful melody on the carillon.

The bishop listened in astonishment; convinced that he had found a replacement for Quasimodo. But suddenly, rushing forward to strike a bell, the armless man tripped and plunged headlong out of the belfry window to his death in the street below.

The stunned bishop rushed to his side. When he reached the street, a crowd had gathered around the fallen figure, drawn by the beautiful music they had heard only moments before. As they silently parted to let the bishop through, one of them asked, “Bishop, who was this man?”.

“I don’t know his name,” the bishop sadly replied, “but his face rings a bell.”

The following day, despite the sadness that weighed heavily on his heart due to the unfortunate death of the armless campanologist, the bishop continued his interviews for the bell ringer of Notre Dame.

The first man to approach him said, “Your Excellency, I am the brother of the poor armless wretch that fell to his death from this very belfry yesterday. I pray that you honor his life by allowing me to replace him in this duty.”.

The bishop agreed to give the man an audition, and, as the armlessmman’s brother stooped to pick up a mallet to strike the first bell, he groaned, clutched at his chest, twirled around, and died on the spot.

Two monks, hearing the bishop’s cries of grief at this second tragedy, rushed up the stairs to his side. “What has happened? Who is this man?” the first monk asked breathlessly.

“I don’t know his name,” sighed the distraught bishop, “but…. he’s a dead ringer for his brother.”

Hahaha! I did exactly the same thing but also spotted a punchline in the middle.