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Tom Cruise went to a walk-in vaccination clinic and asked for a booster. The doctor picked him up under his armpits and put him on a raised cushion.

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My friend's Aunt Marge has been ill for so long, they've started to call her "I can't believe she's not better".

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Silly indeed, but I laughed.

 

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The spelling of Irish names is my pet piamh.

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What do you call a Jewish woman's boobs?

 

Joobs

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Construction experts think the new Spurs stadium will last forever because it shows no signs of atrophy.

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sheep cinema.JPG

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278186919_4968655126553682_5237120674748

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289544542_10223622481564086_221433453303

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For nearly six months now, ever since Meat Loaf died, a random number has been texting me "RIP Meat Loaf" repeatedly. 

 

I don't know who they are but they just won't quit. 

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14 hours ago, Summer in Transylvania said:

For nearly six months now, ever since Meat Loaf died, a random number has been texting me "RIP Meat Loaf" repeatedly. 

 

I don't know who they are but they just won't quit. 

Can somebody explain this one to me, please.

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292094277_10166402942910282_188487293236

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Note: This is directly and shamelessly copied from a comedy podcast I listened to back in January. 

 

Welcome one, welcome all. I am Stephen Buchanan. Due to COVID and the adjoining Pandemic, I am broadcasting from the bedroom I have lived all 29 years of my life in.

 

If you had told me that I would kickstart my career in the same room that I broke my Xbox when I couldn't beat the boss level in one of my games in, well, I'd believe you, because that was last week.

 

A few years ago, I managed to secure a luxury holiday in Vietnam. I bought it for £270 out of the back of a van. When I got there, all it was was a tour of the mosque across the road from my hotel. And the tour guide was the bloke that sold me the tickets in the first place. So I asked him what the deal was, dragging me to Vietnam under false pretences. He told me "If I had told you that this trip would have been a complete and utter waste of your money, would you have bought it?" I must admit, he had a point. He followed with: "Sometimes, in Vietnam, we tell you what you want to hear, even if it's not true." Maybe I could use that for my job in the Co-op. "If I told you that our products are a waste of your money, would you shop here? Sometimes, in the Co-op, we tell you what you want to hear, even if it's not true".

 

Shortly after my holiday in Vietnam, my mum and I applied to house a refugee. Let's call him Dove. When he arrived, they kinda just handed him over and left. I didn't even have to sign for anything. They just left him on our front step and looked lively. I've had Amazon deliveries take more time. What if we hadn't been in? Would they leave him by the bins or summat? I don't know what it says about me as a person, but I would rather go searching through my bins than talk to one of my neighbours. Yes, Mrs. Hamish, I know Brexit means Brexit, can I have the parcel now? 

 

I live in Glasgow, which apparently is the city in the UK with the most yearly stabbings. However, we're also the most vegan-friendly city. So, in other words, we'll stab you, but we draw the line at drinking milk.

 

I work at the Co-op. Well, the correct terminology would be that I used to work at the Co-op. There were some perks, free plastic bags - don't tell my boss - as well as a 33% funeral discount. Which cannot be used on friends or family. However, I was consistently fatigued, and would often turn up late as a result. "We've got to do summat about this, Stephen," my boss would say, to which I would respond: "Yeah? Like what? Take away my funeral discount? You can take away my free plastic bags while you're at it!"

"What free plastic bags?"

"Nothing, nothing."

 

Anyway, I was working in the Co-op one day, when a Nazi walked in. At least I think he was a Nazi; he was a skinhead with Swastikas on his knuckles. Then I recognised him from school. We called him Toad because he looked like a toad. Then we found out that he could fight so we just called him Paul. He used to go about school, and tear folks' shirt pockets off, put them in his shirt pocket and say: "Your pocket in my pocket." Anyway I told my mum about him, because I'm a wee grass - even the teachers were saying "snitches get stitches, Buchanan" - and she said to me: "Remember, Stephen, in 10 years you will have a job and an income, and he will be in prison." Really, mum? The 10-year plan? You can't just phone the school or summat? Anyway, fast-forward to me meeting him again, and he sees this headline in the news about Vietnamese refugees, and burst into a massive, racist rant about them. Normally, I would be too scared to intervene, but this time I stepped in and told him that he couldn't say those kind of things, and that I have a refugee living with me. That turned him a whiter shade of pale, which I thought he'd like, but apparently not. He said to me: "But... but how do you know he's not one of them suicide bombers?"

"Because he's alive?" 

"If I ever see you again, I'm gonna stab you."

"Oh yeah? Come at me mate, I have a 33% funeral discount!"

 

Dove has just turned 18. I reckon he could've gone into caring like my mum. One day, my mum came up to my room and said: "Stephen, it's Dove. He's brought home a bird." At first I thought: "So he's been taking advice from his Uncle Stephen, eh?" but then I found out it was a pigeon. I don't like pigeons. I stayed away from it as much as possible while it was healing a broken wing. Eventually, however, I was told: "Stephen, it's not actually a pigeon, it's a dove." All of a sudden my attitude towards it changed. Doves are okay. The Dove is the bird of peace, the bird of handwash. A few months later, it fully healed, and we put it back into its nest and bade it farewell. That was when Dove told me: "Stephen, that's not a dove, that's a pigeon."

"But you told me it was a dove."

"Aye but sometimes, in Vietnam, we tell you what you want to hear, even if it's not true." 

 

Dove says he would like to thank me for his getting a job. For, without me, there wouldn't be a job going at the Co-op.

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Hosepipe Banjpg.jpg

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Sickipedia, just now - thought I'd share the love, or summat:

 

 

 

Saw my doctor today and showed him the bleeding coming out of my ass. He completely ignored me, and carried on pushing his trolley in Tesco.

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"My dog does magic tricks."

"Really? What breed is he?"

"He's a labracadabrador."

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