[pic of dead duck]
A woman brought a very limp duck into a veterinary surgeon. As she laid her pet on the table, the vet pulled out his stethoscope and listened to the bird's chest. ￼ After a moment or two, the vet shook his head and sadly said, "I'm sorry, your duck has passed away."
The distressed woman wailed, "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I am sure. Your duck is dead," replied the vet.
"How can you be so sure?" she protested. "I mean you haven't done any testing on him or anything. He might just be in a coma or something."
The vet turned around and left the room.
He returned a few minutes later with a Labrador Retriever. ￼ As the duck's owner looked on in amazement, the dog stood on his hind legs, put his front paws on the examination table and sniffed the duck from top to bottom. He then looked up at the vet with sad eyes and shook his head.
The vet patted the dog on the head and took it out of the room.
[pic of dog]
A few minutes later he returned with a cat. ￼ The cat jumped on the table and also delicately sniffed the bird from head to foot. The cat sat back on its haunches, shook its head, meowed softly and strolled out of the room.
[pic of cat]
The vet looked at the woman and said, "I'm sorry, but as I said, this is most definitely, 100% certifiably, a dead duck."
The vet turned to his computer terminal, hit a few keys and produced a bill, which he handed to the woman.
The duck's owner, still in shock, took the bill. 150 [exclmation point removed]" she cried, $150 just to tell me my duck is dead!"
The vet shrugged, "I'm sorry. If you had just taken my word for it, the bill would have been 20, but with the Lab Report and the Cat Scan, it's now 150."
Business idea: Make land mines looking like prayer rugs. Sell in Afghanistan. Prophets go thru roof.
A man is walking home alone late one foggy night . . . all of a sudden he hears from behind: "BUMP . . . BUMP . . . BUMP."
Walking faster, he looks back and through the fog. He makes out the image of a casket banging its way down the middle of the street toward him: " BUMP . . . BUMP . . . BUMP."
Terrified, the man begins to run toward his home, the casket continuing to bounce along behind him: " BUMP . . . BUMP . . . BUMP."
He runs up to his door, fumbles with his keys, opens the door, rushes in, slams and locks the door behind him. However, the casket crashes through his door, with the lid of the casket clapping: " Clappity-BUMP . . . Clappity-BUMP . . . Clappity-BUMP."
The terrified man runs. Rushing upstairs to the bathroom, the man locks himself in. His heart is pounding; his head is reeling; he's gasping.
With a loud crash, the casket breaks down the door. Bumping and clapping toward him.
The man screams and reaches for something, anything, but all he can find is a bottle of cough syrup. Desperate, he throws the cough syrup at the casket.
The coffin stops.
Dear DMC members and readers of dullmensclub.com,
if you've ever wondered, as I have, why there are no dead penguins out on the ice in Antarctica — where do they go?
Wonder no more:
It is a known fact that the penguin is a very ritualistic bird which lives an extremely ordered and complex life. The penguin is very committed to its family and will mate for life, as well as maintain a form of compassionate contact with its offspring throughout its life.
If a penguin is found dead on the ice surface, other members of the family and social circle have been known to dig holes in the ice, using their vestigial wings and beaks, until the hole is deep enough for the dead bird to be rolled into, and buried.
The male penguins then gather in a circle around the fresh grave and sing:
"Freeze a jolly good fellow."
"Freeze a jolly good fellow."
Then they kick him in the ice hole.
Dr. Watson arrives at 221-B Baker Street and is stunned to find his friend, Sherlock Holmes, out front, in an overall, applying a bright, yellow gloss to the front door.
"Holmes, what is it?" asks the curious Watson.
"A lemon entry, my dear Watson," replies Holmes.
Did you know that broadband was available in the 1940s?
Nice to hear from you again. Thanks for this information.
We'll put it in our Groaners section.
Sincerely (dull men are always sincere, mostly),
Quackers/crackers added this year:
Why does Santa have three gardens?
So he can Ho Ho Ho
Why does Santa go down the chimney?
It soots him
What's Santa's favorite cereal?
These were heard on BBC's The One Show
Where does Santa stay when he travels?
At the Ho Ho Hotel
Why would you remove your door bell?
To win the no bell prize
How does the Pacific Ocean greet the Atlantic Ocean?
What did the snowman say to the other snowman who was standing next to him?
I think I smell carrots
What do you give a railway station master for Christmas?
Christmas Crackers — a British Tradition — History and Background
For viewers of this page who are not familiar with the British Christmas tradition of Christmas crackers, we'd like to offer some background.
Christmas crackers are brightly colored paper tubes that are placed on each plate at Christmas parties.
The tube is constructed so that, when pulled on each end, the tube "cracks" open. A paper slip with a joke on it and a paper crown fall out.
Christmas crackers were invented by Thomas Smith in 1846 when he was visiting Paris. He came across a bon-bon, which is a sugar-almond wrapped in tissue paper. Smith began importing bob-bons to England.
The bob-bons sold well in England at Christmas but not at other times of the year.
In the 1850s, Smith started putting mottoes in the bob-bons. As many of the bon-bons were bought by men to give to women, many of the mottos were love poems.
In 1860, Smith added the banger — two strips of chemically impregnated paper that made a cracking sound when pulled apart.
Over time, jokes replaced the love poems.
A dog went into a telegraph office to send a telegram. The dog wrote: "Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof."
The clerk read what the dog wrote and said, "There are only nine words here. You could send another 'Woof' for the same price."
The dog replied, "But then the message wouldn't make any sense."
For the Groaners from Grover page?
— — —
Yes, these belong on Groaners from Grover. Perhaps the full name of the page should be Groaners from Grover and Friends.
Puns for Higher IQs
- If you jump off the bridge in Paris, you are in Seine
- A man's home is his castle, in a manor of speaking
- Dijon vu - the same mustard as before
- Practice safe eating - always use condiments
- Shotgun wedding - it's a case of wife or death
- A man needs a mistress just to break the monogamy
- A hangover is the wrath of grapes
- Dancing cheek-to-cheek is really a form of floor play
- Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?
- Condoms should be used on every conceivable occasion
- Reading while sunbathing makes you well red
- When two egotists meet, it's an I for an I
- A bicycle can't stand on its own because it is two tired
- What's the definition of a will? (It's a dead give away)
- Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana
- In democracy your vote counts. In feudalism your count votes
- She was engaged to a boyfriend with a wooden leg but broke it off
- A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion
- If you don't pay your exorcist, you get repossessed
- With her marriage, she got a new name and a dress
- The man who fell into an upholstery machine is fully recovered
- You feel stuck with your debt if you can't budge it
- Local Area Network in Australia - the LAN down under
- Every calendar's days are numbered
- A lot of money is tainted - Taint yours and taint mine
- A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat
- He had a photographic memory that was never developed
- A midget fortune-teller who escapes from prison is a small medium at large
- Once you've seen one shopping center, you've seen a mall
- Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis
- Santa's helpers are subordinate clauses
- Acupuncture is a jab well done.
Two brooms were hanging together in a closet. After a while they got to know each other so well they decided to get married. One broom was, of course, the bride broom, the other the groom broom.
The wedding was lovely.
At the wedding dinner following the wedding the bride broom leaned over and said to the groom broom, "I think I am going to have a little whisk broom."
"Impossible," said the groom broom. "We haven't swept together yet."
© 1996-2013 International Council of Dull Men, London and Washington DC