Follow For Now Puns

Hi unforgiving, I'm dad"

"Yes you are"

I have no idea what Amazon shopping has to do with tuberculosis but I'm not taking any chances

which was my 40th birthday. The BIG Four Oh! As in "Oh, you're 40 and not married? What's wrong with you?"

And my friends, as awesome as they are, kept setting me up on blind dates, but I never seemed to click with any of the women. Pretty women, short women, tall women, rough women, successful women, lazy women - I dated them all and more often than not, they just weren't interested in me.

I think I probably went on twenty or so dates that never resulted in a a single follow up date.

But two months before my birthday, I started dating two women and both fledgling relationships seemed like they were going somewhere as they were getting really, really serious. I couldn't choose one, but I didn't care. I just couldn't believe they were into me. Okay, maybe they weren't the best looking, but I was so desperate for a wife, and I'm definitely no prize myself.

With a few weeks to go before my birthday, I knew I had to act if I had any hope of being married. I bought two rings and proposed to them both (on separate nights, of course) and they both said no. In fact, though they never knew of each other, I went from two good things to both of them not returning my calls. I guess proposing in a mall food court (for Jenny) or down on my knees in front of the bathroom at a minor league baseball game (Susan) were not my best laid plans, doomed to fail. Or maybe I just reeked of desperation.

So the morning of my birthday, I was practically in tears, deep in depression as I knew I missed my deadline. But my friends came though, kind of. They took me out bar hopping and then we all went back to my place where they had a stripper waiting in my favorite chair. She got up, sat me down, and gave me a grinding lap dance. She said nothing, but after a minute, stopped, turned around, looked me in the eye and said "one." Then she started up again, stopped after a minute, turned around and said "two..."

This went on all night until she got to "forty."

It's been a few months now, and I'm not too sad. My friends really tried to get me married, and after two near mrs, I guess it was the thot that counts.

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

The following conversation ensued.

Receptionist: Hello, thank you for calling ______. How may I direct your call.

Me: Hi, I'd like to speak to in the morning.

Receptionist: Who?

Me: In the morning.

Receptionist: I don't know who that is.

Me: Well it says ______ but he asked me to call him "in the morning."

Receptionist: Giggle groan. That's a new one. Let me put you through.

Me: Thank you.

......

Recruiter: Hello this is ________.

Me: Hi in the morning, this is (me)

Recruiter: Hi, I wanted to go over your resume.

....... Later

Me: Thanks in the morning.

Recruiter (just now noticing) Why do you keep daing that.

Me: Your email said to call you "in the morning."

Recruiter: Groans

If your onion sang hip-hop, would that be a rapscallion?

I used to be an astronaut, but I got tired of eating out of satellite dishes. I wasn't allowed to eat the Milky Way, even though I had to look at it every day. The worst thing was, I never got to visit The Space Bar. Then, when I was visiting the dark side of the moon, I was bitten by a parasite. Now, you might think it's crazy, but the doctor who removed it called it a lunar-tick.

If "womb" is pronounced "woom" and "tomb" is pronounced "toom", shouldn't "bomb" be pronounced "boom"?

China recently tested a new steroid. It basically turns you into The Hulk. The side effect is it could turn you into a crazed zombie that tends to rip the upper extremities from people. People are saying that this could be the zombie apocalypse. In my opinion, lips have nothing to do with it. I call it ARMageddon. The only way to stay safe now is to not let anyone close enough to disarm you.

I recently was going to join the railroad union. I decided against it because it's complicated. If I received instruction on driving the locomotive, would they call it engineering, or training?

I got a sad story about a flower. I don't know who the heck she pissed off, but damn, now she's a Black-Eyed Susan.

I finally figured out what makes leaves angry. Fall. They get so mad they change color. Some are yellow. They're just afraid and run from their problems. The other ones usually just leave.

I went parachuting with my military buddies once. We landed on a department store. I told him I think we're at the wrong coordinates. He said: "Nope. We're right on Target"

I asked a psychologist if Native Americans have strong emotions. He said "Oh yeah, they're intense".

If a psychotic person thought something made sense, would that thought be psychological?

If Matt Damon were searching for a secondhand store, would he be Goodwill Hunting?

My friend is a Marksman for the military. One day, he went to the armory and asked for 3 snipers. They gave him a candy bar. It was a 3 Musketeers.

I want to be there if Dwayne Johnson ever uses a pizza stone. That way I can smell what "The Rock" is cookin'.

Christopher bought a lemon, and the car broke down. Now Christopher Walken.

Have you heard about the latest bank battle on Wall Street? Capital One and Chase got in a fight and Capital One.

You know what a pirate says to his wenches when he sees the shoreline? "LAND HO!"

A man finds a lamp in the desert and dusts it off. Poof! A genie p

twice today he impressed me.

first were out for lunch and hes kicking me under the table. me: "stop dude, that hurts!" him: "not to me."

then were at a store where they were they currently have a reading incentive program "...read at least 8 of the following titles and receive a free book" him: "so, can i get my free book now?" me: "what? no." him: "but i read all the titles..."

i bought him a book for his efforts.

In the not too distant future, web censorship is pervasive; speech and freedom are strangers to one another; while pirates sail the seas with impunity, digital pirates are incarcerated by the busload.

Anyone who speaks out against this ban on open-dialogue or the free-sharing-of-ideas is ground down and hidden away, and the resistance is loosing its will.

A small group of contributors to reddit, huddled together in a bunker beneath barely-waving flags of Snoo, worked tirelessly to repost new ideas from around the internet, to release ideas from their chains, and make speech free ... again!

But it was not to be - a gang of the governments anti-piracy enforcers descended on this, the last bastion of humankind's will to share-freely. Arriving in an armored bus, ten shock-troopers breached the bunker and it looked like the day was lost.

Fortunately for us all, one brave redditor led the collective out a back entrance and they circled to the driveway. This leader told the other redditors to wait in the bushes while he overpowered the one soldier left guarding the transport. There was a flash of movement, a crack from a fallen branch as it struck the guard, and then, stolen keys in hand, the hero revved the engine and told the redditors to pile in.

He had to will himself ignore the gas gauge as he floored the accelerator on the 25,000 pound ticket to freedom - there was only survival or defeat, and nothing in between. Sirens came alive behind him as he rushed for the border to the promised land, to the Free-North.

As the engine begins to cough, the titanic weight of the transport cleaves the barricades asunder and the pursuing vehichles have to hard-brake to avoid skidding beyond their corrupt jurisdiction. Both exhausted and elated, the redditors follow their hero to the freedom promised by their new surroundings ... but their peril is not yet passed.

Though most of the pirate-hunters glower from the south-side of the border, one special agent has crossed over and is speaking with the border guards. The tension is thick. A long-faced guard turns to the newcomers, clearly troubled by what he must do.

"Folks," he says, a pained look on his kindly face, "I'm sorry, to do this, don't cha' know, but I got no choice, eh!"

Confused, the redditors look to one another, and tremble as they notice the agent's smug expression, greedy eyes fixed on the leader of the exodus.

"Look here, now, you are all welcome here, of course, and since speech is free here, we are

So in Canberra people are picking their own mushrooms; which would be fine except for the rather hazardous Death Caps that seem to be plentiful right now. A local radio station asked their listeners whether hey thought mushroom sales at stores or restaurants would go down, and what people thought of the whole issue. With a decade of experience in hospitality I thought I'd call and while waiting to go on air, the presenters joked about calling up the head 'mushroom guy' for Australia and asking their opinion.

I go on air and assure them that no restaurant worth their salt would risk their name and business by buying mushrooms that weren't from an official farm. But just before They bid me farewell I said; "I hope you do get to talk to the head mushroom person, I bet he's a real Fungi".

There was silence followed by barely audible raucous laughter from what sounded like either outside their booth or over the intercom, I'm not sure. The presenters denied me an on air groan or laugh and just pretended like I had said nothing. But someone laughed... Someone...

[Edit: Wow, unable to log in to reddit for a day and I miss getting nearly eight times more up votes than I have since joining Reddit last year. Thanks all! I knew having a 1 yr old would pay off.]

Chester, the defendant, stood in front of the judge's imposing bench, waiting patiently for the reason why he was there. To further muddle the moment, he stared at items unfamiliar to him, at least in that context.

Perched on and near His Honor's desk were the following: A DuraLast Ultra in one car with a long, black cord stretching to another car, several alkaline D cells plugged into a black box, and lastly, a cell phone with its cord sticking into the wall.

Finally removing Chester's questioned look was his attorney leaning into his ear to whisper, "It's official, now: You're facing battery charges."

The following is my conversation through texts with him at 3:30 today.

Me: What's the address for the Xmas party.

Dad: Don't know I'll have to ask your mother

Me: What time is it?

Dad: 3:36 pm

Me: 3:36? Why not 3:37 or you know 3:35? Or even better... 3:30?

Dad: Cuz it's 3:39 right now

Me: ... What time is the party

Dad: oh you wanted to know what time the party is.

Me: ...

Dad: 3 pm.

Had me and my friends laughing so hard.

(This is more parody/satire than a pun, but I tried to make sure it had puns.)

1. No more than half the people attending can wear trucker hats.

2. The fences must be measured and spaced using meters. It doesn't matter if you're putting them in someone's yard.

3. If you pull up a fence post, you cannot reuse it. In fact, you cannot use recycled posts from other people's yards.

4. Don't keep up with the Jones'. But if you can't avoid this, make sure you give the Jones' the credit due for coming up with it first.

5. You can bring lunch as sort of a potluck affair, but do not bring canned meat products from Hormel.

6. If you bring a fence post, it must look like a fence post. If it might be confused with something else, make sure the box or protective wrapping calls it a fence post.

7. When announcing the event, you are not allowed to make references to punch or people getting in line for punch. Just like Fight Club...

For now, we have no rule about promoting one stock car event over another as you work, or discussing other controversial matters. That won't change as long as you don't abuse this. Please keep your fence posts in good taste and suitable for all audiences. But if you do bring risque fence posts, make sure to cover them with a shroud labeled adult only, and I won't pull them up, provided the other rules are followed.

So I do a pub quiz every week with the team name 'Kevin Bacon Stars In...' followed by a pig related film pun such as Boarne Identity, Vanilla Sty, Ham of Steel etc.

It's been about a year and a half now and we're starting to run out so any ideas would be great!

Not sure this is the best place to ask for help but couldn't think where else would be better.

So, I'm a Spanish professor, and I gave a final exam this morning. One of the last parts was that students had to write a paragraph using reflexive verbs in which they describe their daily routine. Since the class only had nine students in it, I told them that if they wanted to wait, I would grade their exams for them and tell them their class grade.

It was an open-book final exam (11 pages long), so I was in my office, and a graduating senior finished first and gave me her exam. When I got to her paragraph, I saw that she had written in Spanish that every day she woke up, got up, took a shower, got dressed, brushed her teeth, ate breakfast, and then she and her friend Emmy went horseback riding. Now, I knew that she didn't go horseback riding, ever, but that it was vocabulary from the previous chapter. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Horseback riding? Really?
Her: Yep!
Me: Every day?
Her: Yep!
Me: Every single day?
Her: Sí, Señor.
Me: I guess you could call it a stable routine then.

Two naturalists spent the bulk of their lives studying bears in the Soviet Union. One was from Czechoslovakia and the other from Poland. When the USSR fell in December 1991 they were both old men, but they were excited about the prospect of finally getting the chance to study grizzlies in America. That following Spring they made arrangements to travel to Yellowstone to finally see the grizzlies.

When they arrived and informed the park rangers of their plan the rangers were alarmed, telling the scientists, "You can't go now. It's mating season, and the bears are very aggressive." But the former Soviets were insistent. "Please," they said, "We must go. We've waited our whole lives. We may never get another chance." Realizing the men couldn't be dissuaded, the rangers gave them a radio with instructions to report in with their location every day. The scientists set out, and for several days they reported dutifully that all was well.

On the third day, though, they failed to report in. Anxiously, the rangers sent out a search party to the scientists' last known location.

Unfortunately, the rangers discovered a bloody mess when they found the men's camp, and the tracks of two bears, a male and a female, leading off into the woods.

The rangers followed the tracks until suddenly they came upon the female grizzly, her muzzle still crimson with blood. They shot her and conducted an autopsy on the spot, sadly finding the remains of the Polish scientist inside her stomach.

"You know what this means, don't you?" said one ranger to the other. "Yes," the other replied, "The Czech is in the male."

Long post is long:

Her: Remember dad's tomato bushes? Well they're attacking! At least one is leaning across the path trying to get at my window... We had the war of the roses, now its time for the attack of the tomatoes!

Me: I don't remember anything about tomato bushes. From one battle to the next.

Her: Yep! Lookout tomatoes here comes the chutney recipe!

Me: I can just imagine a cucumber campaign. Operation onion would be next, which will fail, causing everyone to cry. Dill Day follows, a great success for the allied gardeners. All too soon though, the kamikaze carrots set in, utterly ruining the radish raid. The mushroom maneuver is employed, saving the troops, allowing them to deal the final blow in the asparagus assault!

Her: Don't forget the pumpkins want to supply ground cover with heavy support...

Me: Ah yes, the pumpkin paratroopers.

Her: Thyme is running out...

Me: Prepare the beetroot bombs!!!

Her: Aim for Potato Garden!

Me: Fire the capsicum! Deploy the celery team!

Her: Bring in the egg plant division to support the capsicum!

Me: This is it boys, life or dirt! I want a passionfruit unit to find us a vantage point, and the strawberry unit to surround them!

Her: We had better bring the lettuce up to date!

Me: The cabbage are under withering fire, we need support from the raspberry division! The potatoes are mashed, so well need to send the zucchini in their place!

Her: The zucchini can't take that heavy fire, they'll be grated. Send spinach for some extra iron. The sweet potatoes are digging in at the ridge.

Me: Prepare the watermelon bomb, we need to finish this! The eggplant were squashed, deploy the broccoli brigade! The beans need to get out of there, or they'll be split!

Her: Cauliflowers are going in to retrieve the beans. How brave to risk their florets!

The corn commandos are deployed, but the artichokes are all out of heart, we need to boost morale.

Me: The leeks are down! They'll be flattened if we don't do something!

Are the spinach still operational?

Her: Too bad the pepper isn't on our side, they're well seasoned troops.

Spinach is a go!
Nothing has touched it...

Me: But wait! We still have the chillies to give them heavy fire!

Her: And the squashes and peas!

Me: The ginger is holding it's ground, but it's being cut down by the pineapple!

The basil should make things interesting, send them to aid the potatoes.

**Her:

So I just realized that my "epic" theatre joke is also a dadjoke.

Now this requires some explaining before I get to the joke. I just completed my 55th theatre production - mostly community theatre; most designing and running sound, but I get on stage sometimes. A decade or so ago, I came up with a terrible pun. Told it, got groans, and promptly forgot about it.

A production or two later, someone said - "Hey, aren't you going to tell your joke?" It took a little prompting to remind me of it. Once I was reminded, I told the joke - to more groans.

I enjoyed the groans so much - and was touched that someone remembered the joke that I'd forgotten. So I did decide it was going to forevermore be: THE JOKE.

So the NEXT production, I started warning people that "The Joke" was coming. One or two remembered the previous time I'd told it, and reacted - "Oh god. Please no."

So now it has truly become a thing. Every production I'm in, I start reminding people that The Joke is coming, and the reactions from those who know the joke really help set up the anticipation.

So finally it happens. Most theatre productions I've been in run Fri-Sat-Sun performances. And thus, as I explain, I can only tell The Joke after the last Friday night's performance ends, and before the last Saturday's performance begins. It shifts if the days are different because The Joke depends on the number of remaining shows.

So, finally that time period comes, and I explain that I can only tell the joke during that time period, only the once per production - from auditions to strike - and that we're in that period of time.... which is known as.... the "cancer period". AND would you like to know WHY this period of time is known as the "cancer period"?

(at which point the tension for the punchline is usually quite palpable)

"Because we have...... TUMOR!" (as I hold up two fingers).

This is usually followed by shouts to "GET OUT!" and threats of violence against my person. hehehe

And the NEXT time, when I start warning that "The Joke" is coming, most of these groan "Oh god... no...." and helps set it up for the next poor bunch of folks who haven't yet heard it. :)

I didn't come up with this but its been flying around reddit for a while...

A day before his 15th birthday, the son of a wealthy family was asked by his father, `Well my son, what would you like for your birthday?' The son hesitated a moment and his father's thoughts leapt ahead to a new computer and similar things. However, his son had had a new computer only recently and could have a new one any time he wished.

Finally, the son said, `Father, I have everything a boy could wish for, but there is one thing I would really like. I would love to have a pink ping pong ball.'

The father was rather astonished at this wish, but said, `If it is a pink ping pong ball that you want, a pink ping pong ball you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his bithday present a pink ping pong ball.

The boy took the ball to his room and the next morning the pink ping pong ball was gone. The father was mildly surprised but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong ball, however, was never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 16th birthday, the father asked his son what he would like for his birthday.

Father,' replied the son,I have everything a boy could possibly wish for, but there is one thing I would really, really like. I would love to have a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was more surprised than the year before, but kept his curiosity at bay, for he knew that his son had a right for privacy. he said therefore, `If it is a tenpack of pink ping pong balls that you want, a tenpack of pink ping pong balls you shall have.'

And so, the next day, the son was given as his birthday present a tenpack of pink ping pong balls.

The boy took the tenpack of balls to his room and the next morning, not a single ball remained, merely the empty husk of the tenpack. The father wondered where ten pink ping pong balls might disappear to, but decided not to say anything. The pink ping pong balls, however, were never seen again.

The next year, a day before his 17th birthday, the son was asked by his father what he would like for his birthday.

Father,' said the son to this,I have everything a boy could wish for, but one thing would make my happiness complete. I would dearly want a carton of pink ping pong balls.'

The father was beyond surprise, but decided to make sure he had not misheard. `A carton of pink ping pong balls?'

`A carton of pink ping pong balls,' the boy confirmed.

I can't understand your fascination with pink ping pong balls

Dad takes the milk out the fridge

Dad : "Hey son, how do you know you are going to drown in milk?"

Me: "I dont know."

Dad: "When it is past your eyes!"

He continued to giggle whist drinking his milk, followed by collective groans from the rest of the family.

EDIT: Sorry for title, its too late to fix it now :/

As a father of three, by far my favorite Dad Joke has to be claiming things as my "Dancer Names". I have at least one or two a week.

It's whenever someone says something in conversation which sounds like it could be a Stripper name. Off the top of my head, here are some I've used:

"Yummy Cupcakes", "Pansy Taboo", "Stamen Fuzz", "Dark Almond", "Squeeze Bacon", "Bolt Upright"

I'll often follow it up with a hint as to what that show may just be like.

Guy on television: "The bee is now covered in stamin fuzz..."

Me: "'Stamen Fuzz' is my dancer name. Quite a show; not for the allergic."

My girlfriend's cousin was visiting for the first time in six years and the following conversation happened:

Girlfriend: "I'm in college right now." Cousin: "Oh, what for?" Girlfriend's dad: "To learn..."

His deadpan delivery of his line like there was really no other possible answer completely sold it.

So yesterday I had vision correction surgery and on the ride home my mom called. My dad answered it via the car phone and my mom was asking how it went and all that. The conversation went as follows:

Mom: Hi how are you doing? How's Phil?

Dad: Hi we are good. He was in and out in about 20 minutes and they gave him a CD with only one track on it as part of the recovery package.

Mom: Really? What for?

Dad: Just to ease the anxiety he may experience shortly after the surgery. It's the song I can see clearly now.

My mom proceeded to crack up over the phone and I think she accidentally hung up as well. My girlfriend and I were laughing hysterically as well.

Knowing my dad, he couldn't wait to drop that one.

I was out at dinner with my parents a few nights ago, though I'm only getting around to posting this now. For some background, my mom is basically the nicest person in the universe, but my dad, brother and I are all capable of being assholes on a whim as long as we think it would be funny. This came up in conversation, and we got the following exchange:

Mom: I don't understand how you can be so rude when you live with me.
Me: You're too nice. We have to balance you out.
Dad: We're regressing toward the mean.

It actually wasn't all that bad at first. He didn't over-enunciate "mean" or anything. It really only became a true groaner once he added the ultimate joke killer:

"Get it?"

Just saw this on facebook...

A woman in her eighties made the evening news because she was getting married for the fourth time. The following day she was being interviewed by a local TV station, and the commentator asked about what it felt to be married again at that age and would she share part of her previous experiences, since it seem quite unique the fact that her new husband was a ‘funeral director.’ After a short time to think, a smile came to her face and she proudly explained that she had first married a banker when she was in her twenties, in her forties she married a circus ring master, and in her sixties she married a pastor and now in her eighties, a funeral director. The amazed commentator asked her why she had married men with such diverse carriers. With a smile on her face she explained, ‘I married one for the money, two for the show, three to get ready, and four to go.’

So my dad got a new ringtone for his phone a few months back. It's the theme from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly." Great movie, great tune.

However.

EVERY time my dad's phone rings now, it is inevitably followed by, "Excuse me, guys. I believe Mr. Eastwood is calling."

I was at the airport waiting for my flight home the other night when over the P.A they asked everyone from flight DJ-478 to Sydney to make their way to the service desk, so myself and my fellow passengers make our way over to the desk, where the very embarrassed and obviously distressed desk worker informs us that our flight has been cancelled, and the next one isn't till the morning, she then tells us that the airport will happily put us up in the 5 star hotel around the corner, and have us dropped back at the airport at 7am the following morning. Most the people there accepted this, after the desk lady told us it was for our personal safety and that there wasn't a lot more they could do, except this one particular gentleman, who storms over to the desk, and tells the woman that he needed to be in sydney tonight, and demands a flight be made available. (It's like 9:30 by this point, surely it could wait till the morning?). After again apologizing to the man, she tells him that won't be possible, and she sends us all on our way to the shuttle bus, with our bags already on there, and off we go to the hotel. The entire bus trip this guy carried on whinging and swearing, getting angrier and angrier by the second. We get to the hotel, and he's about 30 people behind the front of the queue to check in, and he gets impatient with the time it's taking, and again, storms his way up the line, past me (I was at the front), walks over to the desk, slams his fist down and says to the woman behind the desk "I want the biggest room you have, I want it in the next 30 seconds or so help me god, you aren't gonna like what happens", the woman looked up at him and said "Sir, the airport has paid for the rooms we already have organized, if you'll take your place back in line, we'll be with you as soon as we can", the guy got really angry about being asked to move back to his spot, he threw his bag down, and yelled at the woman, "Fuck this, call me a taxi, right fucking now, I'll find somewhere else to stay", that's when i decided to step in.

I said. "Oh okay then, you're a taxi".

He took his place back in line pretty quick.

An Aussie blonde was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates. 'I'm sorry,' St Peter said; 'but Heaven is suffering from an overload of godly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals.'

'That's cool' said the blonde, 'What does the entrance exam consist of?'

'Just three questions' said St Peter.

'Which are?' asked the blonde.

'The first,' said St Peter, 'is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T'? The second is 'How many seconds are there in a year'?

The third is 'What was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?''

'Now,' said St Peter, 'Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.'

So the blonde went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same).

The following morning, St Peter called upon the blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, 'I have.'

'Well then,' said St Peter, 'Which two days of the week start with the letter T?'

The blonde said, 'Today and Tomorrow.'

St Peter pondered this answer for some time and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question.

'Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three questions' St Peter went on, 'how many seconds in a year?' The blonde replied, 'Twelve!' 'Only twelve' exclaimed St Peter, 'How did you arrive at that figure?' 'Easy,' said the blonde, 'there's the second of January, the second of February, right through to the second of December, giving a total of twelve seconds.'

St Peter looked at the blonde and said, 'I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.' He walked away shaking his head.

A short time later, St Peter returned to the blonde. 'I'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'

The blonde replied: 'Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.' 'Really!' exclaimed St Peter, 'and what is the answer?' 'It's Andy.' 'Andy??' 'Yes, Andy,' said the blonde. This totally floored St Peter and he paced this way and that, deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer and turning to the blonde, asked 'How in God's name did you arrive at