Sickipedia

I'm thinking of opening up a gay bakery: 'Baguettes for Faguettes'.

I'll just have a little rant if nobody minds... I was a regular viewer and contributor to the original Sickipedia. It was, without doubt, the very best joke site on the entire web and I was devastated when it went down. Now we have this new Sickipedia that seems to be run and moderated by children. The jokes are not a patch on what they used to be. I'm heartily sick of seeing people bitching at each other and trying to score meaningless points. Post your joke, people will like it, or not, but don't turn it into a pissing contest, that's not what the site is for. Are any of the original owners/moderators of the site still involved? If so, please take control

I'm trying to write a Valentines poem for my wife. Can anyone think of something that rhymes with 'leaving you'?

Rang an estate agent yesterday about selling my house. He asked if I had a semi. A bit forward I thought.

Just painted a blue rectangle on the car park outside to trick people viewing Google Earth into thinking I have a swimming pool.

Sometimes I can't help but look at people and think to myself 'Really? You're the sperm that won?'

Accordion to recent surveys, words replaced by musical instruments will often go unnoticed in a sentence.

Had a phone call earlier from someone trying to flog me some double glazing. It took me back about ten years to a phone call I had from someone trying to flog me a conservatory. I'd fucking love a conservatory. I imagine myself sitting in it on warm summer evenings, glass of rum and coke in hand, looking out over my extensive and beautifully ordered garden and thinking how good life is. it's a dream. So anyway.. i'm on the phone for close to 40 minutes with the conservatory guy and we've even got down to choosing what colour and type of blinds would be perfect in my new conservatory. He's very excited, I can tell. 'Can I just confirm your postcode and address' he says and i'm happy to give those details. There is a pause of about 20 seconds during which I can hear him typing and then.. "YOU CUNT" I live on the 8th floor of a tower block.

I walked into the Doctors Surgery and he said to me, "Pick a star sign, any star sign." "Capricorn." I replied. "Yeah, right," he tutted. "As if I'm about to tell you that you have Capricorn. Try again."

I call my penis 'Steven Hawking', because it can't stand up and it constantly dribbles.