In the town where I grew up there was a man named John Tridd. He lived in a shanty on the edge of town with his four brothers. The Tridds were a hapless bunch, ne’er-do-wells who were scorned and ridiculed by the townsfolk. Lately a gang of hooligans took pleasure at beating and tormenting the Tridds on a regular basis. John asked the town constable to protect them, but the cop looked away. He went to the local church, but the priest simply told him to pray for divine intervention. Still the beatings continued.
One day a rabbi passed through town. He learned of the Tridds’ plight, and went to see them. When he arrived, he saw the hooligans had lined up all five of the brothers and were kicking them with glee. The rabbi rushed between them, yelling “Stop!” The hooligans ignored him and kept kicking the Tridds. Confused, the rabbi asked why he was being spared.
The lead hooligan answered: “Silly rabbi, kicks are for Tridds.”
No, the punniest thing ever was “Through Space and Time with Ferdinand Feghoot.” It even gave birth to the term “feghoot.”
Like the Parisian landlord who despairingly threw himself into the river and refused to be rescued because he didn’t have enough rents to come in from the Seine.
Or the person who liked to dress up in animal costumes with a hypodermic needle on his head: the Furry with the syringe on top.
Or the recipe pamphlet for aliens who raised animals but only ate their hams: fanny farmer’s cookbook.
There was a rezoning case down here where a former church was turned into a Ruth Chris’s Steakhouse. I opposed it because it violated the separation of church and steak.
A man returns to his hometown to visit his parents for Christmas. Deciding that they would rather spend time talking to their son rather than cooking, his parents suggest they all go out for a special Christmas breakfast.
After looking over the menu, he tells the waiter, “I’ll have the eggs benedict.” His order comes a while later and it’s served on a huge fancy chrome plate. He asks the waiter, “What’s with the fancy plate?” The waiter replies, “There’s no plate like chrome for the hollandaise!”
It is said that Gandhi used to walk around barefoot, which caused the skin on the soles of his feet to become very thick and tough. He practiced a very strict form of vegetarian diet, causing him to become rather frail. It is also claimed that he had a case of bad breath. All this made him a…
Super-calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis.
A thief took several valuable paintings from the Louvre and was on the run from police when his Econoline ran out of gas. Asked how his plain failed so quickly, he replied, “I had no Monet to buy Degas to make the Van Gogh.”
Here’s one I made up when I was a kid: There’s a tropical rainforest where lives a species of spider that the locals call a shig. These spiders are very large. When the mama shig is ready to lay her eggs, she digs a hole in the ground and lays on top of them to protect them. She is very contented in her nest, and if anyone steps too close she’ll gnaw their foot off.
One day two explorers are walking through the rainforest, and one of them almost steps in a spider’s nest. He says to his companion, “whoa did you see that! Do you know how glad I am I didn’t step in that nest?” To which the other explorer replies, “happy as a shig in pit?”
A British bush pilot is flying on a job through the Australian outback when he encounters engine problems and is forced to make a crash landing. He survives, but is found unconscious and is taken to a local mission hospital which is run by the Sisters of Mercy.
Upon awakening, he is greeted by the Mother Superior who advises him where he is and asks if there is anything he wants. He replies, “I am a bit thirsty…could I have a cup of tea?” to which the Mother Superior says, “I’m terribly sorry, but our supply truck is late and we are out of regular tea. However, we do have a sort of native drink that is brewed from koala hides.” The pilot thinks awhile and replies, “Well, I just have to have my cuppa…you can bring me that, thanks.”
The nun leaves and returns in a few minutes with a steaming cup. The pilot takes the cup gratefully, but upon taking a sip, instantly gags and spits it out. “This tea is filled with hair!”, he exclaims disgustedly.
“Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry!” The nun replies, “I forgot to tell you: The koala tea of Mercy is not strained.”
Also try to find episodes of the old BBC program “I’m Sorry, I’ll Read That Again”. Terrible puns abound. John Cleese was with the show for most of its run.
Dale Rogers bought Roy Rogers a new pair of cowboy boots for his birthday, and he wore them to break them in while they went out for a ride on the range. When Roy was a little ways ahead of Dale, a mountain lion attacked him, scuffing the new boots, then running off. Roy immediately set off to find the lion and give that animal a lesson in manners. A little further down the trail, Dale seemed to spot something. She called out, “Pardon me, Roy, is that the cat who chewed your new shoes?”
I actually did this. My girlfriend ordered eggs benedict, and I mentioned that it was odd they brought it out on a ceramic plate like all the other breakfasts. I said “They usually serve eggs benedict on a chrome plate, not a ceramic one” She said, “… why would they do that?” I said “Because there’s no plate like chrome for the hollendaise.”
She said, “I’m not talking to you any more.” And it was quiet for 20 minutes. Best breakfast ever.
In the future, the works of Sherlock Holmes experienced a revival and the Baker Street Irregulars incorporated. But it was a very closely held company: only shareholders knew about the date and location of their annual meeting, which changed yearly and was securely padlocked to make sure that no one got there in advance. When they showed up in the building one year, however, they were astounded to see Ferdinand Feghoot already there.
“How did you get in here?” they asked.
Feghoot held up a bolt cutter. “Shear lock.”
“But . . . aren’t you a stockholder of the corporation?”
Feghoot shook his head sadly. “Share lack.”
“Then how did you hear about the meeting? It’s a secret!”
Feghoot shrugged. “Sheer luck.”
Immediately the group made Feghoot president, because he was such a wonderful Holmes-pun philosopher.
My dentist had samples of various dentures on display in the waiting room. People could choose which ones they wanted therefrom. He finally had to move it to a back room because he realized it’s impolite to pick one’s teeth in public.
A prize diamond was stolen from a local jewelry store. Police followed a trail of clues that led them to a large warehouse. The warehouse was recently converted: half prison, half nursery/daycare. The police believed the theif was in there somewhere and resolved to search every crook and nanny.
If you’re willing to accept an anecdote, I have an original one for you.
I used to have a friend who was studying economics in college. At some point my brother also ended up taking an economics course as part of his finance degree. This inevitably led to them occassionally have discussions that pretty much precluded everyone else, particularly because they were using initialisms rather than terminology, some of which I knew (like GDP), but many of which I didn’t.
Anyway, one time in particular we were all together and the conversation drifted off in that direction and I sort of zoned out until my friend say “What’s the PNV?”
Without missing a beat, I interupted and said “Isn’t that what women get when they see a guy’s name written in the snow?”
They were confused and tried to explain that PNV is an initialism for potential net value. So, unfortunately, I had to explain the pun, but I did get ultimately get a glorious groan from both of them, which made it all worthwhile.
[Alternate part two]
The vendor served him two scoops of vanilla.
It’s an ice cream koan.
From a little-known musical called Oklahoma. (The Times - the English one - once headlined a cricket report about the impending success of a southern county with Surrey With The Binge On Tap)
My little boy’s playing at being Prince Arthur after watching Merlin on TV. He’s got himself a little toy sword and helmet and shield. Then he goes to sit on our Staffordshire bull terrier like it’s a warhorse, and I stop him and say “Hold it, son. I wouldn’t send a knight out on a dog like this.”