Sickipedia

My teacher said I'd be no good at poetry because of my dyslexia. So far I've made two jugs, a vase and a bowl, so fuck you Mrs Collins

Remember when the stereotype was that Welsh people fuck sheep? Ian Watkins really changed that one

My girlfriend asked me to get one of those drinks with her name on it. I bought her a can of Monster, That's how the fight started.

I've only got two or three good Motown puns in me. Four Tops.

DICTIONARY FOR WOMEN'S PERSONAL ADS: 40-ish......................... 49 Adventurous.....................Slept with all your mates Athletic.........................No tits Average looking............Has a face like an arse Contagious Smile..........Does a lot of pills Emotionally Secure........On medication Feminist.........................Fat Free spirit......................Junkie Friendship first...............Former $lut Fun...............................Annoying Gentle...........................Dull Good Listener...............Autistic New-Age......................Body hair problems Open-minded.................Desperate Outgoing........................Loud and Embarrassing Passionate......................Sloppy drunk Poet...............................Depressive Professional............... ...Bitch Romantic.......................Frigid Social............................Pussy like a clowns pocket Voluptuous....................Very Fat Large lady.....................Hugely Fat Seeking knight in shining armour............her ex is a fucking nutcase Widow...........................Murderer

I just found out that La La Land isn't about a guy with a stutter who works in air traffic control

Christmas time

Rus'll fix it

I took a date to the bar. As I gazed into her eyes. I felt the butterflies in my stomach. I knew right there.... I had roofied the wrong glass

A Scottish Sergeant Major, in full dress uniform, marches into a pharmacy. Very carefully he opens his sporran and pulls out a neatly folded cotton bandana, unfolds it to reveal a smaller silk square handkerchief, which he also unfolds - to reveal a condom. The condom has a number of patches on it. The chemist holds it up and eyes it critically. "How much to repair it?' he asks the chemist. "Six pence" says the chemist. "How much for a new one?" "Ten pence" says the chemist. He painstakingly folds the condom into the silk square handkerchief and the cotton bandana, replaces it carefully in his sporran, and marches out of the door, shoulders back and kilt swinging. A moment or two later the chemist hears a great shout go up outside, followed by an even greater shout. He marches back into the chemists and addresses the proprietor, this time with a grin on his face. "The regiment has taken a vote," he says. "We'll have a new one