I walked into B&Q at lunchtime and some old guy dressed in orange asked me if I wanted decking. Fortunately, I got the first punch in and that was the end of that.
Nice. Here’s one I picked up at the recent Chris Langan Weekend:
Pat and Liam are in the pub, having a beer, when Pat turns to Liam and says, “Supposing, just supposing, that you were to get three months work.” Liam’s attention is aroused. Pat continues, “But supposing this work would take you overseas, so that you’d be gone for three months. And suppose that I might be in here, having a few beers while you’re away. And just suppose, now, that your own wife were to come into the pub, here, and have a few beers. And then suppose that that two of us might have a few beers together and that we were getting on fine. And suppose that we got on together so fine that we ended up together for the whole night and she got pregnant. Would that make us related somehow, you and I?”
See, this is what happens when God outsources his work. That quack doctor is about to choke Mrs Gribbs! (Or feel her up; it’s difficult to tell which from the pic.)