The Monday Morning Mirth

Author: Grime

  • Clever Judge

    Two young guys were picked up by the cops for smoking dope and appeared in court on Friday before the judge. The judge said,

    "You seem like nice young men, and I’d like to give you a second chance rather than jail time. I want you to go out this weekend and try to show others the evils of drug use and get them to give up drugs forever. I’ll see you back in court Monday."

    Monday, the two guys were in court, and the judge said to the 1st one, "How did you do over the weekend?"

    "Well, your honour, I persuaded 17 people to give up drugs forever."
    "17 people? That’s wonderful. What did you tell them?"
    "I used a diagram, your honour. I drew two circles like this…

    ..O…o

    ..and told them this (the big circle) is your brain before drugs and this (small circle) is your brain after drugs."
    "That’s admirable," said the judge.

    "And you, how did you do?", he asked the second boy, "Well, your honour, I persuaded 156 people to give up drugs forever."
    "156 people! That’s amazing! How did you manage to do that?!?", "Well, I used a similar approach. (draws two circles)

    ..o…O

    I said (pointing to the small circle) "this is your butthole before prison, …"

  • Saddam’s Coded Message

    After hearing numerous news reports saying "We don’t even know if Saddam is still alive", Saddam decided to send George W a letter in his own handwriting to let him know he is still in the game. Bush opened the letter and it appeared to contain a coded message:

    370HSSV-0773H.

    Bush was baffled, so he typed it out and emailed it to Colin Powell. Powell and his aides had no clue either so they sent it to the CIA. No one could solve it so it went to the NSA and then to MIT and NASA and the Secret Service. Eventually they asked MI6 for help. They cabled the White House:


    "Tell the president he is looking at the message upside down…"

  • Ode to Australians

    WE, the people of a free nation of blokes, sheilas and the occasional wanker. We come from many lands (although a few too many of us come from New Zealand) and although we live in the best country in the world, we reserve the right to bitch and moan about it whenever we bloody like. We are One Nation but we’re divided into many States.

    First, there’s Victoria, named after a queen who didn’t believe in lesbians. Victoria is the realm of Mossimo turtlenecks, cafe latte, grand-final day and big horse races. Its capital is Melbourne, whose chief marketing pitch is that "it’s liveable". At least that’s what they think. The rest of us think it is too bloody cold and wet.

    Next, there’s NSW, the realm of pastel shorts, macchiato with sugar, thin books read quickly and millions of dancing queens. Its capital Sydney has more queens than any other city in the world and is proud of it. Its mascots are Bondi lifesavers who pull their Speedos up their cracks to keep the left and right sides of their brains separate.

    Down south we have Tasmania, a State based on the notion that the family that bonks together stays together. In Tassie, everyone gets an extra chromosome at conception. Maps of the State bring smiles to the sternest faces. It holds the world record for a single mass shooting, which the Yanks can’t seem to beat no matter how often they try.

    South Australia is the province of half-decent reds, a festival of foreigners and bizarre axe murders. SA is the state of innovation. Where else can you so effectively re-use country bank vaults and barrels as in Snowtown, just out of Adelaide (also named after a queen). They had the Grand Prix, but lost it when the views of Adelaide sent the Formula One drivers to sleep at the wheel.

    Western Australia is too far from anywhere to be relevant. It’s main claim to fame is that it doesn’t have daylight saving because if it did, all the men would get erections on the bus on the way to work. WA was the last state to stop importing convicts and many of them still work there in the government and business.

    The Northern Territory is the red heart of our land. Outback plains, sheep stations the size of Europe, Kangaroos, Jackaroos, Emus, Uluru and dusty kids with big smiles. It also has the highest beer consumption of anywhere on the planet and its creek beds have the highest aluminium content of anywhere too. Although the Territory is the centre piece of our national culture, few of us live there and the rest prefer to fly over it on our way to Bali.

    And there’s Queensland. While any mention of God seems silly in a document defining a nation of half-arsed sceptics, it is worth noting that God probably made Queensland as it’s beautiful one day and perfect the next. Why he filled it with dickheads remains a mystery.

    Oh yes and there’s Canberra. The least said the better.

    We, the citizens of Oz, are united by Highways, whose treacherous twists and turns kill more of us each year than murderers. We are united in our lust for international recognition, so desperate for praise we leap in joy when a rag tag gaggle of corrupt IOC officials tells us Sydney is better than Beijing. We are united by a democracy so flawed that a political party, albeit a redneck gun-toting one, can get a million votes and still not win one seat in Federal Parliament. Not that we’re whingeing, we leave that to our Pommy immigrants. We want to make "no worries mate" our national phrase, "she’ll be right mate" our national attitude and "Waltzing Matilda" our national anthem (So what if it’s about a sheep-stealing crim who commits suicide).

    We love sport so much our news readers can read the death toll from a sailing race and still tell us who’s winning. And we’re the best in the world at all the sports that count, like cricket, netball, rugby, AFL, roo-shooting, two-up and horse racing. We also have the biggest rock, the tastiest pies, the blackest aborigines and the worst-dressed Olympians in the known universe.

    We shoot, we root, we vote. We are girt by sea and pissed by lunchtime. Even though we might seem a racist, closed-minded, sports-obsessed little people, at least we feel better for it.

    You are, I am, we are, Australian.

  • How to Shower

    How to Shower – Like A Woman

    1. Take off clothing and place it in sectioned laundry basket according to lights and darks.

    2. Walk to bathroom wearing long dressing gown. If you see your husband along the way, cover up any exposed flesh and rush to the bathroom.

    3. Look at your womanly physique in the mirror and stick out your gut so that you can complain and whine even more about how you’re getting fat.

    4. Get in the shower. Look for facecloth, armcloth, legcloth, long loofah, wide loofah and pumice stone.

    5. Wash your hair once with Cucumber and Lamfrey shampoo with 83 added vitamins.

    6. Wash your hair again with Cucumber and Lamfrey shampoo with 83 added vitamins.

    7. Condition your hair with Cucumber and Lamfrey conditioner enhanced with natural crocus oil. Leave on hair for fifteen minutes.

    8. Wash your face with crushed apricot facial scrub for ten minutes until red raw.

    9. Wash entire rest of body with Ginger Nut and Jaffa Cake body wash.

    10. Rinse conditioner off hair (this takes at least fifteen minutes as you must make sure that it has all come off).

    11. Shave armpits and legs. Consider shaving bikini area but decide to get it waxed instead.

    12. Scream loudly when your husband flushes the toilet and you freeze / roast

    13. Turn off shower.

    14. Squeegee off all wet surfaces in shower. Spray mould spots with Mould and Mildew Remover.

    15. Get out of shower. Dry with towel the size of a small African Country. Wrap hair in super absorbent second towel.

    16. Check entire body for the remotest sign of a blemish. Attack with nails/tweezers/stanley knife/sander/power drill if found.

    17. Return to bedroom wearing long dressing gown and towel on head.

    18. If you see your husband along the way, cover up any exposed areas and then rush to bedroom to spend an hour and a half getting dressed.

    How to Shower – Like A Man

    1. Take off clothes while sitting on the edge of the bed and leave them in a pile.

    2. Walk naked to the bathroom. If you see your wife along the way, shake willy at her making a "wey hey" sound.

    3. Look at your manly physique in the mirror, suck in your gut, look for pecs. Admire yourself in the mirror.

    4. Get in the shower.

    5. Don’t bother to look for a washcloth (you don’t use one).

    6. Wash your face.

    7. Wash your armpits.

    8. Crack up at how loud your fart sounds in the shower.

    9. Wash your privates and surrounding area.

    10. Ensure you leave "special" hair on the soap bar.

    11. Shampoo your hair (do not use conditioner).

    12. Make a shampoo Mohawk.

    13. Pull back shower curtain and look at yourself in the mirror.

    14. Pee (in the shower).

    15. Rinse off and get out of the shower. Fail to notice water on the floor because you left the curtain hanging out of the bath the whole time.

    16. Partially dry off.

    17. Look at yourself in the mirror, flex muscles. Admire self again.

    18. Leave shower curtain open and wet bath mat on the floor.

    19. Leave bathroom light on.

    20. Return to the bedroom with towel around waist. If you pass your wife, pull off towel, grab willy, repeat "Wey hey" sound.

    21. Throw wet towel on the bed. Take 2 minutes to get dressed.

  • QANTAS Gripe Sheet

    After every flight, Qantas pilots fill out a form called a gripe sheet, which conveys to the mechanics problems encountered with the aircraft during the flight that need repair or correction. The engineers read and correct the problem, and then respond in writing on the lower half of the form what remedial action was taken, and the pilot reviews the gripe sheets before the next flight.

    Never let it be said that ground crews and engineers lack a sense of humour. Here are some actual logged maintenance complaints and problems as submitted by Qantas pilots and the solution recorded by maintenance engineers. By the way, Qantas is the only major airline that has never had an accident.

    (P = The problem logged by the pilot)
    (S = The solution and action taken by the engineers)

    P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.
    S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

    P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.
    S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

    P: Something loose in cockpit.
    S: Something tightened in cockpit.

    P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent.
    S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

    P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.
    S: Evidence removed.

    P: DME volume unbelievably loud.
    S: DME volume set to more believable level.

    P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.
    S: That’s what they’re there for.

    P: IFF inoperative.
    S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

    P: Suspected crack in windshield.
    S: Suspect you’re right.

    P: Number 3 engine missing.
    S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

    P: Aircraft handles funny.
    S: Aircraft warned to straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

    P: Target radar hums.
    S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

    P: Mouse in cockpit.
    S: Cat installed.

    P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.
    S: Took hammer away from midget.

  • Monty Python’s Philosopher’s Song

    I always wanted to know the words to Monty Python’s Philosopher’s Song. Here they are, forever on Grime:

    Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
    Who was very rarely stable
    Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
    Who could think you under the table
    David Hume could out consume Schopenhauer and Hegel
    And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
    Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel

    There’s nothing Nietzche couldn’t teach ya
    ‘Bout the raising of the wrist
    Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed

    John Stuart Mill, of his own free will
    On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill
    Plato they say, could stick it away
    Half a crate of whiskey every day
    Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle
    Hobbes was fond of his dram
    And Rene’ Descartes was a drunken fart
    "I drink, therefore I am"

    Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed
    A lovely little thinker
    But a bugger when he’s pissed

  • Daddy’s Little Girl

    A father watched his daughter playing in the garden. He smiled as he reflected on how sweet and innocent his little girl was.

    Suddenly she just stopped and stared at the ground. He went over to her and noticed she was looking at two spiders mating.

    "Daddy, what are those two spiders doing?" she asked.

    "They’re mating," her father replied.

    "What do you call the spider on top, Daddy?" she asked.

    "That’s a Daddy Longlegs," her father answered.

    "So, the other one is a Mommy Longlegs?" the little girl asked.

    "No," her father replied. "Both of them are Daddy Longlegs,"

    The little girl thought for a moment — then took her foot and stomped them flat.

    "Well, we’re not having any of that shit in our garden."

  • A Tattoo with a Difference

    A woman goes into a tattoo parlour and tells the tattoo artist that she wants a tattoo of a turkey on her right thigh, right up just below her bikini line. She also wants him to put "Happy Thanksgiving" under the turkey. So the guy does it and it comes out looking real good. The woman then instructs him to put a Santa Claus with "Merry Christmas" Up on her left thigh. So the guy does it and it comes out looking good too. As the woman is getting dressed to leave, the tattoo artist says, "If you don’t mind, could you tell me why you had me put such unusual tattoos on your thighs?" She said, "I’m sick and tired of my husband complaining all the time that there’s nothing good to eat between Thanksgiving and Christmas."

  • The Telephone and the Dog

    It’s common practice in England to ring a telephone by sending extra voltage across one side of the two wire circuit and ground (earth in England). When the subscriber answers the phone, it switches to the two wire circuit for the conversation. This method allows two parties on the same line to be signalled without disturbing each other.

    An elderly lady with several pets called to say that her telephone failed to ring when her friends called; and that on the few occasions when it did ring her dog always barked first. The telephone repairman proceeded to the scene, curious to see this psychic dog.

    He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and dialled the subscriber’s house. The phone didn’t ring. He tried again. The dog barked loudly, followed by a ringing telephone.

    Climbing down from the pole, the telephone repairman found:

    1. The dog was tied to the telephone system’s ground post via an iron chain and collar.

    2. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signalling current.

    3. After several such jolts, the dog would start barking and urinating on the ground.

    4. The wet ground now completed the circuit and the phone would ring.

    Which shows you that some problems can be fixed by just pissing on them. But only temporarily.

  • An Old Man at the Mall

    An old man was sitting on a bench at the mall.

    A young man walked up to the bench and sat down.

    He had spiked hair in all different colours: green, red, orange, blue and yellow.

    The old man just stared. Every time the young man looked over, the old man was staring.

    The young man finally said sarcastically, "What’s the matter old timer, never done anything wild in your life?"

    Without batting an eye, the old man replied, "Got drunk once and had sex with a parrot. I was just wondering if you were my son."