That’s a joke we tell about Liverpool in the UK (and probably a million other places).
What’s the difference between Bing Crosby and Walt Disney?
Bing sings but Walt Disney
What do Cavan men do on Christmas Eve?
Bring their kids to see Santa’s grave.
Explanation: People from Co. Cavan are renowned for their meaness, also works with Scotsmen 
How do you know ET’s a Catholic?
'Cos he looks like a Catholic
I’ll take the one covered in dark chocolate thanks.
[Catholic] Why did this make me laugh so hard?[catholic]
For full regional accuracy, Cheryl would say oxters, not armpits
Q: Where’s Warsaw?
A: In wor shed
(wor = our and is pronounced as you’d guess to make the pun work)
Southerner: Name a card game.
Geordie: Ice Hockey
Southerner: That’s not a card game!
Geordie: It’s the caadest game ah knaa.
Near to Newcastle is the alien realm of Ashington, where the accent is nigh on impenetrable, even to Geordies. This only works in an approximation of pitmatic:
An Ashington woman went into the hairdresser’s and asked for a perm. The hairdresser said “Ah wandered lernly as a clerd…”
Did you hear about the Wigan exercise class where the instructor said “Hands on thighs” and they all went like this [Hands on th’(e) eyes]?
How many Austinites does it take to screw in a light bulb?
Six- one to screw it in, and five to whine about how great Austin USED to be before they closed the Armadillo.
(Note: I’m a transplanted New Yorker myself; ONLY Austinites are likely to get that joke, and only transplants fully appreciate it.)
If you’ll permit a departure from the pronunciation thing perhaps the “regional humor” universe might incorporate things like this.
A well-meaning Yankee traveler goes into a Mississippi roadside greasy spoon at breakfast time and tries to avoid displaying his accent as best he can. He instructs the teenager at the counter, “I’d like two eggs, over easy, three slices of bacon, dry toast, coffee and 50c worth of grits.”
The kid almost collapses to the floor in laughter and is having trouble getting his breath when the Yankee asks what’s so funny.
The kid says, as politely as he can, “Mister, you can’t haul 50c worth of grits.”
Speaking of which, regional bumper sticker humor:
“Keep Georgetown Normal”
“Keep Round Rock Mildly Unusual”
If you know Austin, you know why.
The one-l lama
He’s a priest.
The two-l llama
He’s a beast.
But I will bet
A silk pajama
There isn’t any
Three-l lllama.
– Ogden Nash.
How do they cure a heart attack in New York?
“Get up before you fuckin’ die!”
North Florida joke:
A Gainesville couple were on a date. They were making out hot and heavy and the girl whispers into the guy’s ear, “Kiss me where it stinks!” (A real classy chick, she was).
So he drove her to Palatka.
That’s where the paper mill is.
I know what grits are, but what is “50c”?
My bad: fifty cents. Or as the rappers say, fitty sint.
Okay, now I’m definitely showing ignorance–I buy grits all the time, and don’t get why 50c worth of grits are too much to haul. Sorry for making you spell it out (at least I don’t put sugar on mine).
Some shit just ain’t funny, I guess.
I’ve heard the same one here, but with Chelsea instead of Palatka.
This poem had an asterick, with a footnote: The author has been made aware of a conflabation know as a “three alarm-a.” Damn.
Seattle:
“Is that on Pike or Pine?” (streets downtown)
“Yes” (they run parallel to each other, have similar shops, and are often dyslexically confused).
Wyoming dialect:
“The batteries are dead.” (pronounced ‘bat trees’ by parents)
“Where will the bats live now?” (we children mocking parents silly dialect)
I am hopelessly regional I guess. I get all the Southern jokes and none of the northern ones! :o
Oh and on the grits, I’d say that in years past they were probably dirt cheap so 50 cents’ worth would be a metric buttload.