Tag Archives: funny

Best short gin jokes, puns and quotes – let the fun be-gin

Too much gin can make you tearful – so here’s an antidote. Some lovely gin jokes and one-liners to read and share while you’re enjoying an ice cold G&T.

Brought to you by York Gin

Don’t cry over spilt milk – it could have been gin.

If at first you don’t succeed, try, try a gin.

What’s the sophisticated drinker’s favourite Xmas carol?

Gin-gle bells, gin-gle bells ….

“Trust me you can dance.”

⁃ Gin

When life gives you lemons (or limes) make a gin and tonic.

Save water – drink gin.

A gin and tonic has 91 calories.

A banana has 115 calories.

My doctor told me to make the healthy choice.

I love my doctor.

A yawn is a silent scream for gin.

I want someone to look at me the same way I look at gin.

Gin and bear it.

Good friends offer advice. Real friends offer gin.

Let the games be gin.

Exercise. Walking round the house looking for my glass of gin.

I didn’t text you. Gin did.

Gym? I thought you said gin!

Sometimes I have a bath because it’s difficult to drink gin in the shower.

Of all the gin joins in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.

If you can’t remember my name just say ‘Gin’ and I’ll turn around.

I love you slightly less than gin.

Gin lovers are better lovers.

I make gin disappear. What’s your superpower?

Education is important.

But gin is importanter.

Gin – because everyone needs a hobby.

Let the good times be-gin.

Size does matter. No-one wants a small gin and tonic.

A day without gin is like … I have no idea.

A woman goes into a bar with a roll of tarmac in her bag.

She says: ‘A large gin and tonic please. And one for the road.’

You should have a warm heart and a cold gin and tonic.

Brought to you by York Gin

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Why February is the best month

As part of my therapy, I have to do a ‘glass half full’ exercise.

So here are eight reasons why February is my favourite month – despite it officially being the worst month of the year. 

1. You’ve given up on all your New Year’s Resolutions by now. So you can drink, smoke, take drugs, eat fatty foods, swear, get into fights, sit around doing no exercise, etc without feeling like a complete failure. 

2. The weather is quite shit so there’s a chance of getting off work or school without lying. 

3. You can be really pissed off and you’re allowed to blame it on the month – and no-one criticises you for being a maungy* twat.

4. It has a silent ‘r’ that some people pronounce, allowing you to silently despise them. 

5. Lots of people die in February so you can get free food and drink at wakes. 

6. You can wear long johns without being called a freak. 

7. Jehovah’s Witnesses get really cold – either door to door or at their city centre stalls. 

8. If you find yourself saying: ‘I can’t wait until this month is over’, it will be soon because it’s so short – like this excuse for a blog post. 

* West Yorkshire dialect for bad-tempered, sulky, generally jacked off with life, feeling like a right skank, etc. 

Write your own epitaph – and don’t be so grave 

There’s a psychological technique that gets you to write your own epitaph. 

The idea is that you think about what’s written on your gravestone – to encourage you to think about the person you’d like to be.

Then when you realise the massive distance between who you are now and the person described on the gravestone, you’re supposed to make huge changes in your life. 

Like stopping being an arsehole, devoting your life to discovering a new cheese or finally getting divorced. 
A Californian life coach would say this technique may help you ‘to live your best life’. Writing that phrase just literally made me gag. 

Another problem with the epitaph technique is that my family don’t do gravestones.

We’ve always been burnt. Sometimes at the stake. Other times at the crem. 

But we’ve always suffered from insufficient funds for a gravestone when we snuff it.

Still let’s not give up just yet. 

Here’s some inspiration:

‘I told you I was ill’ on Spike Milligan’a grave is really good. 

I also like these three:

Sir Christopher Wren (1632-1723) in St. Paul’s Cathedral:
‘Si monumentum requiris circumspice.’
‘If you require a monument, look around.’

Mrs Aphra Behn (1640-89):
‘Here lies a proof that wit can never be, defence enough against mortality.’

Dorothy Parker (1893-1967):
‘Excuse my dust.’

Actually this exercise has really got me thinking. So here goes with some I’ve just thought up:

‘He spent his life either nervous, angry or off his tits on hardcore painkillers and/or benzodiazepines.’

‘His haircuts never really suited him.’

‘Didn’t work out as well as we hoped – but not as badly as we feared. B+?-‘

‘He tried. He failed. He conked out.’

‘A transvestite until the age of four. Then things went downhill.’

‘Cats will miss him. (Actually, no they won’t.)’

‘Feared by no-one. Loved by a few. Ignored by many.’

‘He gave up the drink. He gave up the fags. And now he’s given up the ghost.’

Why not have a go at writing your own epitaph? 

If nothing else, you can marvel at your own mediocrity. 

Why you don’t need booze, presents or Christ for a happy Christmas

I love Christmas.

This is weird as I’m not into presents, I don’t touch booze, I’m not a glutton, I don’t like the telly and I don’t do God.

When I was younger so much younger than today, getting a bottle of beer shampoo or a soap on a rope was actually exciting – and not in an ironic way. But why do I only remember the cleaning products? I think we’ll leave that one for my shrink in the new year.

I also really liked Jesus.

Midnight Mass, singing carols and praying were a way of life – not a pissed-up, nostalgia fest. I believed the whole thing – angels coming down from heav’n on a cold winter night that was so deep, trembling shepherds and their equally scared flocks of sheep washing their socks by night, the Virgin Mary wrapping LBJ in swaddling clothes and laying him in a manger after giving birth in front of lowing cattle and the most famous cuckold in 0th Century Middle Eastern literature.

On the other hand – and equally Christmassy – I’ve been known to spend every waking hour for several weeks either side of 25 December  as pissed as a fart.

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I’ve also experienced severe meat sweats while overdosing on TV Christmas specials, downing After Eights dunked in brandy while simultaneously farting sprout fumes and chain smoking the 200 Marlboros I got as a present – and thinking I’m having fun. So much for a typical Christmas Day in the early 1990s.

‘What’s the big deal?’ you may be asking. ‘Most of this sounds like pretty average festive behaviour, TBH!’

Nowadays, I’ve stopped boozing and smoking and I’m not arsed about parties – even political ones. I enjoy eating without the sweating. I’m not materialist. I’ve been kicked out of the Catholic Church on the grounds of apostasy and heresy. And I don’t particularly like Xmas jumpers – whether traditional or sarcastic-ironic, Mariah Carey, Christmas crackers, Santa hats, board games or annual quizzes, tinsel,  smug round-robin letters, Quality St, Advocaat or even the Holidays Are Comin’ TV campaign.

So how come I’m still simply having a wonderful Christmas time?

Put simply, it’s just that – for however short a time – we’re nicer to each other. For a little while, we think about – and even try to help – people who aren’t the lucky bastards we are.

It’s pretty impossible to be unmoved by the humanitarian tragedies around the world – and Christmas makes us think about them more as charities do a great job reminding us about them. And making effective pleas for help.

These campaigns also remind us there are so many people doing good, brave, extraordinary things to make this barmy world a bit better.

The need to give a shit hits home especially hard after a year like 2016 that’s seen a concerted attempt to move the hatred and bigotry of the far right into the political mainstream. And when utter arseholes (even smellier more revolting than the usual ring pieces) have secured some pretty powerful jobs.

So Christmas is a much-needed kick up the arse to give something to people I will never meet in countries I will never visit who face horrors I could never imagine. Or to people I pass on the street every day who also lead lives of quiet torture.

It’s a reminder to stop worrying about the insignificant bullshit that tends to clog our brains and to work out what’s actually important.

So thank you to everyone who’s reminded me to stop and think. Thank you to everyone who is trying in trying times.

You’re my true Christmas heroes. And you’re why I still love Christmas.

Oh and the Christmas jokes

The best offensive, controversial and awkward Christmas jokes

Here are some festive jokes that are ruder, more anti-religious and have more sexual content than your average Xmas gags. Ho, ho, ho!

At Christmas, I remember closing my eyes and waiting for Santa to come. Then there was the awkward silence as he got dressed and left …

What does a transvestite do for Christmas?

Eat, drink and be Mary.

When did George Michael die?

Last Christmas.

Christmas is rubbish.

Whoever invented it should be nailed to a cross.

Why does Santa go in through the chimney?

Because Mrs Claus said he’d never get in through the back door.

What’s the difference between Santa and Tiger Woods?

Santa stopped at three hoes.

I wanted my step-daughter to play with the rabbit I bought her for Christmas.

But her mother said that sex toys were not an appropriate gift for an eight year old.

Last night, Father Christmas emptied his sack in our room – which is why I’m leaving your mother.

Why was Santa upset when he got a sweater for Christmas?

He was hoping for a screamer or a moaner.

‘Twas the night before Christmas. And a very pregnant Mary fell off the donkey – causing a miscarriage.

As I was paying for my Christmas tree, the shop assistant asked: ‘Are you going to put that up yourself?’

I said: ‘No you dirty sod, I’m putting it up in the living room.’

Jesus walks into a hotel with three nails and asks the receptionist: ‘Can you put me up for the night?’

Why are priests like Christmas trees?

Their little balls are just for decoration.

Here are less offensive – but probably funnier – short Xmas jokes

And here’s how to get excommunicated from the Catholic Church

Merry Christmas again.

Seven tips to improve your mental health that don’t involve mindfulness 

Here are some of the things I do to improve my mental health. My mentalness waxes and wanes – but not in time to the moon. So it’s not predictable and can take a dive at any point – a bit like … [fill in the name of a centre forward who plays for a football team you don’t like.]

If you’re living with things like depression, anxiety or post traumatic stress, I hope my experience may help you or someone you know. 
Having said that, if you’re feeling utterly crap right now, you possibly can’t even be arsed reading this. 

But if a part of you can be bothered, maybe there’s something in here that may help a bit. And if it helps you, it’ll help me (see ‘Giving is better than receiving’ below).

Of course, you have to take some of this with a pinch or even cellar full of salt – it would really help to have a ‘control’ me so we could test these things in a more scientific way. But I’m told having one me is quite enough. 

So here’s the advice. 

Take a walk on the wild side – or at least to the end of the cul-de-sac and back

I’m fairly sure there’s a direct relationship between the number of miles I walk and my mental health. This means I have a massive incentive to get off my arse and walk. 

Granted, I take this to extremes by regularly walking 26 miles in the Yorkshire Dales. But I take everything to extremes. 

Including making generalisations. 

But even a half-hour walk round the block or a park can have big benefits for the mind. Change of scene. Fresh air. Seeing some nature. Stretching your legs. Releasing some positive hormones. 

Only watch out for dog shit – walking in dog shit is guaranteed to adversely affect your mood. 

Make yourself smile or laugh 

I can guarantee that five minutes of Les Dawson videos will improve my mood – often from utterly shite to fairly shite. But I’ll take fairly shite any day if the alternative is utterly shite. 

I asked the doctor if he had something for persistent wind. 

He gave me a kite. 

I’m pretty sure you have things that make you laugh. Even if it’s just a pair of wind-up chattering false teeth or Michael Macintyre – whatever your secret comedy shame, have it ready in reserve and make sure you use it when you need it most – when you’re in the mental gutter. 

When I was a child, I had wax in my ears. 

Dad didn’t take me to the doctor, he used me as a night light.

Lol. 

Accept how you’re feeling

There are good reasons for the way you’re feeling. And it doesn’t help if you think it’s something to be ashamed of, or that it’s somehow not acceptable to feel this way. 

Realising this and not blaming, or getting cross with, yourself can reduce the suffering.

If this sounds a bit like mindfulness, it’s not meant to. All I’m saying is you don’t have to be horrible to yourself. There are plenty of bastards out there without you joining them. Just try to be nice to yourself – even if that only means treating yourself to a KitKat. 

Reduce the amount of news you consume 

People who work in ‘the news’ will tell you they always try to create an emotional reaction with every story. Otherwise they risk losing their audience. The news is designed to create emotional responses like horror, shock and disgust to keep you glued – and anxiety, depression and anger can easily result. 

The next American president and the Brexit bastards produce all these reactions in me. They also produce feelings of powerlessness against their post-truth bollocks and smug white power bigotry. 

So – despite an academic background in history and politics and a professional background in journalism – I’m having a sabbatical from the news. 

And it’s such a relief. Reading and listening to brilliant books and music instead of dystopian drivel is a massive bonus. 

Giving is better than receiving 

There’s a book called 59 Seconds by a psychologist – Professor Richard Wiseman (a nice bit of nominative determinism) – which provides quick techniques to improve your life. 

One of these shows that being nice to other people makes you feel better – and if you do a lot of nice things in a short space of time, you feel better than just doing the odd nice thing. 

During one lunchtime as I walked through town, I opened a door for someone going into M&S, feigned fear at a little lad in a scary costume, gave a beggar a couple of pounds, smiled at an old lady and bought someone a Christmas present. 

As I said before, there’s no control me to test this sort of thing. But I felt pretty good after this amazing run of niceness. 

Note to self: Carry on trying to be nice even when other people are being annoying scrota. 

The professionals 

I’ve had mixed experience when it comes to professional help. 

A shrink once fell asleep while I was baring my soul to him. 

A self-obsessed psychoanalyst re-trained as a clown almost immediately after he’d ‘treated’ me. At least 75% of our sessions were about his issues – mainly about wanting to be a clown, not having a sex life and how much it would cost to retrain as a clown. 

Meanwhile, a psychotherapist repeated the phrase: ‘So … how’ve you been?’ at the start of all 14 of our sessions together. It started grating at session three. 

Strangely, though, I think the EMDR (eye movement desensitisation and reprocessing) this last professional did on me had a positive effect. 

Of course, the placebo effect is really powerful. So just by doing something kind for yourself may have a significantly positive effect. (See KitKat technique above.)

I don’t know if the acupuncture (during which the man said I had two hearts), the emotional freedom technique (tapping ‘end points of the energy meridians’ while reciting mantras) or the many weird self help books I’ve read have been a waste of time and money. 

I suspect I would have been better advised going out for a posh meal or getting a nice pair of shoes. In fact, the amount I’ve spent on this shite would have paid for several meals and pairs of shoes and trousers. And possibly a couple of nights in a decent hotel. And a coat and a car. And a horse. 

Medication 

This can help in some cases. I’ve found it’s best to get the NHS to look after this side of things rather than the off licence or the pub. 

I also think their customers’ mental health is probably not the chief concern of drug dealers.

So if you’re feeling like shit and nothing is shifting the turds swimming round your brain, I suggest getting to your GP asap – and start being nice to yourself. You don’t have to suffer on your tod. 

And remember there are loads of things you can do to help improve your mental health. 

I’m off for a walk now. Ta ta.
More of my stuff about happiness

The life cycle of a Movember moustache

Moustache babies

Moustache babies aren’t like other babies. As soon as they’re born they can reason well and follow complicated arguments. 
During the first few days of life, it’s a good idea for the parent to bolster the baby moustache’s sense of purpose and pride. 


‘Movember moustaches are the best type of moustaches,’ you coo. ‘Because their chief purpose is to raise money to help people and reduce suffering. What a cause you live for! I’m so proud of you.’ 

The more positive conversations you can have at this early stage in development, the more your moustache will prosper. 

Each day can be a revelation for both of you as the baby moustache changes in so many ways. A new sprout here. A growth spurt for an existing bristle there.  

‘I’m growing well, aren’t I, daddy?’ asks the baby moustache. ‘Am I the best one ever?’

The parent always looks back on these early days with immense pride and some nostalgia.  

Itchy adolescence

Especially during the adolescent period when the baby moustache becomes – sometimes literally overnight – a juvenile delinquent. The bristles start itching, some bristles start to grow in out-of-the-way nooks and crannies

And the previously benign friendly moustache becomes recalcitrant and moody.

‘I don’t care if I’m itchy,’ he says. ‘You grew me. And no I won’t grow in that bald patch. Why should I? You’ll only murder me soon. Yeah – I’ve read all about it. You only keep me for a month. I hate you!’

These are torrid days indeed when cajoling, soothing and even bribery with wax products seem to have no effect. 

Patience is the only useful virtue during this dark period of Movember. 

Glorious growth

If you both survive the growing pangs and panics of itchy, scratchy adolescence, the moustache’s early and mid adulthood are a joy. 

Here the moustache can truly find his feet in the world, blossoming to full maturity. Strong, virile and full, the adult moustache is one of the world’s wonders – a bit like Niagara Falls without all the water or the Great Wall of China without the stones. 

‘I love life, dad. Thank you for giving it to me. It’s such a pleasure living above your top lip. You’re an inspiration.’

Even now, though, the clouds of doom slightly blot the landscape. And you may be faced with a degree of pleading and emotional blackmail from your hairy side-kick. 

‘Please can’t I stay beyond Movember? I promise to be the most loyal moustache a parent could ever want. Life is so good – it would be a travesty to kill me in my prime.’  

Again a patient attitude and a sympathetic stroke can do wonders to soothe the anxious mature moustache. 

The final cut

Toward the final week of Movember, you’ll find a welcome and increasingly philosophical attitude from your moustache – with his questions veering towards the amount you’ve raised and encouraging you to do more fundraising in the final days of the month.  

‘We’ve been through so much,’ he sighs. ‘I’m so so tired. But I think I’ve got one final push in me before it’s curtains.’

And so December comes into view and the razor blade appears. The moustache is now ready for his fate. 


‘Thank you for giving me life, father. We haven’t wasted it have we? Farewell from your faithful friend.’
Thank you Emma Godivala for the lovely drawings. 

You can donate to the wonderful Movember cause here