About as funny as colon jokes;;;;;;
Jokes about colons are usually crappy.
I understand that newly graduated proctologists have to work their way up from the bottom.
They’re usually anal-retentive, too.
Ask them about their day. They’ll invariably tell you that they had a hard day at the orifice.
It’s a dirty job,
But somebody has got to do it!
I asked a proctologist why he retired. He said the job rectum.
Surgeons tend to write succinct patient notes, but proctologist’s notes are even susphincter.
That’s something I can get behind.
My beloved imaginary Irish granddad used to swear playing the fiddle made his cow’s give sweeter milk. So he always made sure there was plenty of music in his dairy air.
With apologies to Phil Coulter, see 2:27.
He played the fiddle, and he told you that story? He was just stringing you along.
Did you hear one of Adele’s session orchestralists died? He now plays cello from the other side.
Since I’m a southern gal I certainly know HOW to catfish, but what a pain in the bass!
And then there’s the difference between a drummer and a vacuum cleaner. Which is you have to plug one of them in before it sucks.
A post involving a drum. How do you beat that?
Plays well in the sticks.
A drummer was lurking outside my door the other day. But I got rid of him by him for the pizza he was delivering.
They don’t get much cheesier than that one.
Or crustier.
Or as poorly delivered.