the Daily Funnies

Having reached the age of 65, a friend went to apply for Social security last week. After waiting in line for a very long time, he finally got to the counter. The woman there asked him for his driver\’s license to verify his age.

He looked in his pockets and realized, to his great dismay, that he had left his wallet on the nightstand in his bedroom. He told the lady that he was very sorry but had left his wallet at home. "I\’ll have to go get it and come back later," he said.

At that point, the Social Security clerk said, "Unbutton your shirt."

My friend was confused, but he opened his shirt, revealing lots of curly silver hair.

She said, "That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me" and, with that, she promptly processed his application.

When my friend got home, he couldn\’t wait to tell his wife about his experience at the Social Security Office.

She listened to the whole story and then said, "You should have dropped your pants … you might have gotten disability, too!"

A crowded airline flight was canceled.  A single agent was trying to do her best to rebook a long line of inconvenienced travelers.  Suddenly an angry passenger pushed his way to the desk.  He slapped his ticket on the counter and said "I HAVE to be on flight 409 and it has to be FIRST CLASS."

The agent looked at him and said "I am sorry, sir, I\’ll be happy to try to help you, but, I\’ve got to help these folks first, and I\’m sure we\’ll be able to work something out."

The passenger was unimpressed.  He loudly enough that all the passengers in line could hear "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?"

Without hesitating, the agent smiled and grabbed her public address microphone, "May I have your attention please," she began, her voice heard clearly throughout the terminal. "We have a passenger here at Gate 14 WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If anyone can help him find his identity, please come to Gate 14."

With the folks behind him in line laughing hysterically, the man glared at the agent, gritted his teeth and swore "F*** You!"   Without flinching, she smiled and  said, "I\’m sorry sir, you\’ll have to get in line for that too."

AN AMERICAN tourist in London decides to skip his tour group and explore the city on his own. He wanders around, seeing the sights, and occasionally stopping at a quaint pub to soak up the local culture, chat with the lads, and have a pint of Guiness.

After a while, he finds himself in a very high-class area – big, stately residences, no pubs, no shops, no restaurants, and worst of all, NO PUBLIC TOILETS.  He really, really has to go, after all those pints of Guiness.

He finds a narrow side street, with high walls surrounding the adjacent buildings and decides to use the wall to solve his problem.

As he is unzipping, he is tapped on the shoulder by a London Bobbie, who says, \”I say, sir, you simply cannot do that here, you know.\”

\”I\’m very sorry, officer,\” replies the American, \”but I really, really HAVE TO GO, and I just can\’t find a public toilet.\”

\”Ah, yes,\” says the Bobbie, \”just follow me.\” He leads him to a back \”delivery alley\”, then along a wall to a gate, which he opens.

\”In there,\” points the Bobbie. \”Whiz away Sir, anywhere you want.\”

The fellow enters and finds himself in the most beautiful garden he has ever seen. Manicured grass lawns, statuary, fountains, sculptured hedges, and huge beds of gorgeous flowers, all in perfect bloom. Since he has the cop\’s blessing, he unburdens himself and is greatly relieved.

As he goes back through the gate, he says to the Bobbie \”That was really decent of you. Is that what you call British hospitality?\”

\”No sir,\” replies the Bobbie, \”that\’s what we call the French Embassy.\”

[Ed. Note: the \"Inland Revenue\" is the British equivalent of the IRS.]

Dear Mr Addison,

I am writing to you to express our thanks for your more than prompt reply to our latest communication, and also to answer some of the points you raise. I will address them, as ever, in order. Firstly, I must take issue with your description of our last as a \”begging letter\”. It might perhaps more properly be referred to as a \”tax demand\”. This is how we, at the Inland Revenue have always, for reasons of accuracy; traditionally referred to such documents.

Secondly, your frustration at our adding to the \”endless stream of crapulent whining and panhandling vomited daily through the letterbox on to the doormat\” has been noted. However, whilst I have naturally not seen the other letters to which you refer I would cautiously suggest that their being from \”pauper councils, Lombardy pirate banking houses and pissant gas-mongerers\” might indicate that your decision to \”file them next to the toilet in case of emergencies\” is at best a little ill-advised. In common with my own organisation, it is unlikely that the senders of these letters do see you as a \”lackwit bumpkin? or, come to that, a \”sodding charity\”. More likely they see you as a citizen of Great Britain, with a responsibility to contribute to the upkeep of the nation as a whole.

Which brings me to my next point. Whilst there may be some spirit of truth in your assertion that the taxes you pay \”go to shore up the canker-blighted, toppling folly that is the Public Services\”, a moment\’s rudimentary calculation ought to disabuse you of the notion that the government in any way expects you to \”stump up for the whole damned party\” yourself. The estimates you provide for the Chancellor\’s disbursement of the funds levied by taxation, whilst colourful, are, in fairness, a little off the mark. Less than you seem to imagine is spent on \”junkets for Bunterish lickspittles\” and \”dancing whores\” whilst far more than you have accounted for is allocated to, for example, \”that box-ticking fa?ade of a university system.\”

A couple of technical points arising from direct queries: 1. The reason we don\’t simply write \”Muggins\” on the envelope has to do with the vagaries of the postal system; 2. You can rest assured that \”sucking the very marrows of those with nothing else to give\” has never been considered as a practice because even if the Personal Allowance didn\’t render it irrelevant, the sheer medicallogistics involved would make it financially unviable.

I trust this has helped. In the meantime, whilst I would not in any way wish to influence your decision one way or the other, I ought to point out that even if you did choose to \”give the whole foul jamboree up and go and live in India\” you would still owe us the money.

Please forward it by Friday.

Yours Sincerely,
H J Lee
Customer Relations

The Texas preacher rose to his feet, his face red and angry. \”Someone in this congregation has spread a rumor that I belong to the Ku Klux Klan. This is a horrible lie and one which I, as a Christian community leader, cannot tolerate. I want the party who did this to stand and ask forgiveness from God and this Christian congregation.\”

No one moved.

The preacher continued, \”Do you have the nerve to face me and admit this is a falsehood? Remember, you will be forgiven and in your heart you will feel glory. Now stand and confess your transgression.\”

Again all was quiet.

Then, slowly, a drop-dead gorgeous blonde with a body that would stop traffic rose from the third pew. Her head was bowed and her voice quivered as she spoke.

\”Reverend, there has been a terrible misunderstanding. I never said you were a member of the Ku Klux Klan. I simply told a couple of my friends that you were a wizard under the sheets!\”