Recording Head Puns

The head veterinarian at a zoo noticed something alarming in a patient’s record. A monkey that had been a healthy weight at its last checkup was now recorded as being only half that.

Fearing for the monkey’s health, he went and saw it, expecting it to be sickly and skeletal. However, the monkey seemed totally normal. Confused told his staff to weigh the monkey again.

They did, but the number they reported was still astonishingly low. Sure it was a mistake, he went to weigh the monkey for himself. But when he put the monkey on the scale, it showed a number that was still far too low, and couldn’t possibly be right.

After a moment he spotted the problem: behind the scale was a grab bar on the wall, and the monkey had stealthily grabbed it with its tail, and was supporting some of its weight off the scale that way.

So the monkey's weight was fine, they just weren't paying attention to de tail.

But it didn't effect me

It didn't effect me

It didn't effect me

It didn't effect me

“Hey Freddie,” he asked; “I know the recording budget’s pretty tight, but do you want me to hire someone to play those… Ah, I forgot the word… Those big tuned drums?”

Freddie shook his head and answered: “I’m just a poor boy; I need no timpani.”

And he was a very talented guitarist, so good in fact that one day his friend the chicken turned to him and asked would he like to be in a band with him. The horse of course agreed he and the chicken who played the drums went looking for a singer and a bassist. They decided to approach the Sheep who was the best singer on the farm, the Sheep agreed and told them about how the Pig was a pretty good bass player so they all asked him to join the band and he agreed.

So The Barnyard Animals got to work practicing and rehearsing their little hearts out. They started playing open mic nights and gained some traction. After a few years they managed to get signed by a major record label and The Barnyard Animals became an international phenomenon. They toured in every country for the better part of a decade until they finally decided retire. The Horse decided to settle down in English countryside, the Chicken went to Australia, the Pig went to Japan and the Sheep went to New Zealand.

A few years later Gary Barlow contacts the Horse about getting The Barnyard Animals back together for a big charity Live Aid type concert in Wembley. The Horse contacts his band mates and they all agree. So the Pig, the Sheep and the Chicken all fly out to Singapore and get the same connection to London. But in a terrible turn of events the plane crashes and all The Barnyard Animals apart from the horse die in a fiery inferno.

The horse upon finding out that his oldest friends have all died goes into a deep depression. He locks himself in his house and tries to drink his pain away. A few weeks later when every bottle of anything that could be drank had been drunk. He puts on his hat and sunglasses so no one would be able to recognise him and heads to the closest pub. So the Horse walks into a bar and the barman says "Hey, why the long face?"

Everyone knows the story about William Tell shooting an apple off his son's head but not many know that the Tell family was huge into bowling, even joined a league. Sadly, the records weren't kept safe and to this very day we have no idea for whom the Tells bowled.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

Just read an amazing account of a 13th-Century siege.

The attackers killed the duke's son, knocking him from the battlements with a peasant's severed head fired from a trebuchet.

It was the first recorded instance of a serf-face-to-heir missile.

From Twitter.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): I have come up with a plan so cunning you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): Morning, Mr. B.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Leave me alone, Baldrick. If I wanted to talk to a vegetable, I would have bought one at the market.

[Referring to a suicide pill they have both been given, after being captured by French revolutionaries]

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): I’m glad to say you won’t be needing that pill, Mr. B.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Am I jumping the gun, Baldrick, or are the words “I have a cunning plan” marching with ill-deserved confidence in the direction of this conversation?

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): They certainly are.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Well, forgive me if I don’t do a cartwheel of joy; your record in this department is hardly 100%. So what is it?

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): We do nothing …

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Yup, it’s another world-beater.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): No, wait. We do nothing … until our heads have actually been cut off.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): And then we … spring into action?

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): [to Baldrick] Unless I think of something, tomorrow we go to meet our Maker: in my case God, in your case God knows.

Baldrick (Tony Robinson): Sounds like a bag of grapefruits to me, Mr B.

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): The phrase, Baldrick, is “a case of sour grapes” – and yes it bloody well is.

Mrs. Miggins: The Scarlet Pimpernel, Mr. Blackadder! He’s so exciting, don’t you think?

Blackadder (Rowan Atkinson): Actually, I think he’s the most over-rated human being since Judas Iscariot won the AD31 Best Disciple Competition.

http://bestcleanfunnyjokes.com/funny-quotes-from-blackadder-the-third/

Note: Quality Very Varying (I see what I did there) and sometimes subject to specialist knowledge. So I apologise in advance. Shame me with your better puns.

While I was languishing in the Language Centre, doing some semantics antics and considering how all the other linguistics students despised and derided me, I was accosted by a stout man with large glasses who made me a preposition. It was that I should collect terrible puns, to do with linguistics, in order to ingratiate myself yet further with the other linguistics students (including even the phonetics fanatics).

I'm struggling to think of a pun to do with grammaticality that both makes sense and "Is grandma tickly?" correct. I'm also stuck on 'morphologician'. (I'm not actually sure that's a particularly logical word for the subject, though I guess that's more for, er, more for a logician to worry about.)

The problem I have with writing about phonological variation is that one is constantly forced to choose between being fun or logical - very Asian!I always get in trouble with electricians, they think I'm calling them a 'dialectician' whereas in fact I'm just saying "Die, electrician."

I like pscycholinguistics – the only department of linguistics where it’s acceptable to wear a cycle helmet. My Australian accent is terrible but I like to think my Sath Efrican one is predicate. My favourite accent is Received Pronunciation, because it is the accent chiefly used by invisible Japanese people who are ordered online. When the first recipient of an invisible Japanese person got the parcel, they wrote a complaint saying "Received but can't see Asian" and the name stuck.

Why did the speakers whose native languages weren't English, but whose only shared language was English, but they weren't very good at it and kept on having to stop to think about it, stop talking to one another? They came to an agreement. (Get it? If not, write your answer on a pastecard and paste it to the below address.)

What did the 'a' say to the 'the'? "You definitely are ticklish, 'the'!"

Why was the small man eaten by the large bear, which was proportionately bigger than him? It had, er, relative claws.

I think the reason there are so many speakers of Russian is because they all partake in an activity called "copulae shun". (Ok, ok, I know, that was Pushkin it.)

I know a man called Hillary who can, might, should, did, must, shall and will ride an ox. We call him "Ox Hillary".

I always think the verb 'to be' in the senten

“Hey Freddie,” he asked; “I know the recording budget’s pretty tight, but do you want me to hire someone to play those… Ah, I forgot the word… Those big tuned drums?”

Freddie shook his head and answered: “I’m just a poor boy; I need no timpani.”