Tag Archives: happiness

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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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. 

Five ways to make yourself happier if you hate the new Tory government

If you wish we had a more ‘caring’, left-wing government than the one we’ve voted for, there are several things you can do to make yourself happier.

These don’t involve bemoaning your fellow citizens’ selfishness and stupidity.
Calling people names rarely makes you feel better and doesn’t actually change anything. And the people will still be selfish and stupid – no matter what you say.

Getting drunk, taking drugs, watching live comedy, having orgasms or even eating chocolate are legitimate ways of making yourself happier – but my list doesn’t involve any of these. You can do these as well!

How good is that?

Why not try one of these ways to recover from 7 May 2015?

1. If you wanted the government to raise taxes to pay for better health care, overseas aid or any other issue you believe in, start contributing more from your pay to charities. Either that, or wait for five years to see if we vote for a government that will raise them. You’ll probably feel more empowered if you do something positive now.

2. Join a political party. A 20 year old SNP candidate who’s still doing her university finals will be sitting in the new House of Commons, so it’s possible to follow your political dreams.
Electoral politics isn’t for everyone – I’ve worked for an MP and found the experience terrifying. But you may enjoy it. Why not give it a try? You could be brilliant at it.
And if the mainstream political parties make you queasy, there are others like the recently-formed Women’s Equality party. One of its founders Sandi Todsvik was fed up of being fed up and has even given up her fantastic job on Radio 4’s News Quiz to help establish this party.

3. Start being nicer to people. Smile if someone smiles at you. Hold doors open – even if the person is still 10 metres away and limping. Give your seat up on the bus for someone who’s younger than you. Have a chat to the Big Issue seller instead of avoiding his or her gaze. Little bits of kindness make the giver and receiver happier. They just do.

4. Do something really positive and of immediately huge benefit to others – like giving blood. Giving blood is a lovely way to feel connected to your fellows – even UKIP supporters need blood transfusions in the operating theatre.

5. Find a cause you believe in and find fellow travellers on the road to your own personal utopia. You’d be surprised how many groups exist for all manner of causes and interests. Volunteer at a local hospice. Help kids with their reading at a local school. Pick up litter for a couple of hours a day, like the eccentric and lovely David Sedaris.

If some of this sounds like a call to fill the gaps of an underfunded welfare state, then ask yourself what you’re going to do to make the world better now the gaps aren’t going to be filled by the state.

I’m as gutted as the next person that our society is run by – and on behalf of – a small club.

I came close to some of its elements when I studied at David Cameron’s old Oxford college. They’re horrendous, arrogant and the true manifestation of the ‘entitlement culture’.

But that’s the way things are for now. If you’re disappointed and depressed that the UK has another Conservative government, you can bemoan it and do nothing – feeling both alienated and impotent.

Or you can use whatever motivation, talent and resources you have to make the world a slightly better place today.

I know which will make you – and others – a bit happier.

7 reasons why MPs deserve a 10 per cent pay rise

 

Controversial headline followed by a contradictory introduction. Please forgive me – politics makes me nervous and when I’m nervous I fall back on tried and tested methods of producing clickbait and encouraging readers’ outrage.

‘You don’t see an underfed MP’

Although MPs aren’t allowed to pay for duck islands on expenses any more, they still have a very, very, very cushy time.

Their free or heavily subsidised bars, restaurants, first class rail travel, accommodation and embossed writing paper are just the tip of an iceberg of freebies. MPs could spend their entire lives at receptions, dinners, parties, dinner parties, conferences, openings and meetings where nice food and good drink is always in generous, complimentary supply. You never see a knowingly underfed MP.

MPs are also allowed to do other jobs on top of their £74,000 (they’re getting a much-needed 10% rise, you know.) And by ‘other jobs’ I don’t mean stacking shelves at Aldi. I mean ‘consultancy’ jobs that pay £200+ an hour.

You don’t see an underfed MP. And you rarely come across an MP who isn’t financially ‘comfortable’. If they’re not minted, it’s usually because they’re being blackmailed, have a gambling problem, a drug addiction or particularly expensive tastes in prostitutes. Unsurprisingly, the MPs with all four of these attributes are particularly keen on ‘consultancy’ work.

Many ex-MPs are given a seat in the House of Lords – as long as they haven’t done something dreadful like having sex with children. Actually, some of its members have had sex with children, and continue to hold the ‘Noble Lord’ title. As Jim Royle would say: ‘Noble Lord my Arse.’

The Lords get £300 a day just for clocking in – they don’t actually have to do anything except turn up. Not a bad post-career gig, especially when you’ve got your gold-plated MP’s pension to live on as well.

An MP’s lot is not a happy one

But despite all this – if you look closely at the face of any experienced British MP – you’ll see they’re deeply troubled.

True, in many cases this is because the police are investigating unspeakable sex crimes, being rude to officers on the beat or perverting the course of justice (the three most popular crimes among our elected representatives).
But they are also deeply sad because of the very nature of the modern MP’s job.

An Oxford connection

I know – I worked for two MPs during a misspent youth thinking politics was a worthwhile thing to do.
I even went to a posh university to study the subject for two years.
My tutor – the improbably named and inveterately angry Vernon Bogdanor – also taught politics to David Cameron.
‘Nothing to brag about there then,’ you may say.
‘I wasn’t bragging. Just name-dropping – a subtle but important distinction in Oxford,’ I could respond.

Reasons to be miserable 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

So, here are seven reasons why being an MP in 2015 is a recipe for making you sad – and why despite despising our MPs, we should grant them their 10%. Good luck to them. They need it.

1. You have to knock on strangers’ doors during elections – and are usually greeted with less enthusiasm than a Jehovah’s Witness double glazing salesman who’s trodden dog shit up the householder’s path. On one occasion during my dabble in the political world, one of my fellow canvassers had his hand badly bitten by a dog called Vince – obviously brought up to loathe anyone who wasn’t BNP/UKIP.

2. You have to deal with the tediously obsessed, the lonely, the bored and the frankly insane. And it’s not just your fellow MPs and members of your party who cause you pain. An MP’s office is to obsessive mad people what a freshly laid lump of dog shit is to flies. And even if you spend most of the week in Westminster you still have to come back during the recesses and at weekends. And remember – these obsessives don’t have anything else to do apart from obsessing about their obsessions. Whether that’s the ‘injustice’ of their convictions, the ‘injustice’ of the judge revoking custody of their children or the ‘injustice’ of their next door neighbours owning a pet cat. Once they think you can help them (you can’t) they remain a deep and permanent pain in the arse for the entire span of your parliamentary career.

3. You have to argue all the time. You’re actually paid to be argumentative, obstructive and obnoxious – and you spend your time rehearsing the same tired arguments with people you instinctively hate from the other political parties – in TV and radio studios, at literary festivals and sometimes even on the floor of the House of Commons. Arguing – as anyone who has lived in a house where people hate each other – is intrinsically stressful. An MP is a professional arguer and therefore professionally and constantly stressed out.

4. Even though it’s your job to argue and make important political points, you’re not allowed to use your own lines of argument. Rather, party central command provides the slogans, phrases and statistics you must use if you are to be considered ‘loyal’. Staying ‘on message’ is far more important in modern politics than the ability to think or to have independent opinions. And the slogans must be intelligible to the average Sun reader.

  • We have a long-term economic plan.
  • A better plan for a better future.
  • Hard-working families deserve better.
  • We will govern for the many, not the few.

Are you asleep yet? I admit to nodding off after the first ‘plan’.

5. The modern MP has to tweet, update Facebook and keep the Instagram feed going. These updates must include a rubbish pictures of the MP with the most annoying obsessives in the constituency – with falsely positive captions like:

“Humbled by Arthur Pervis’ 46 years campaigning to get an oak tree planted on the roundabout near Tescos. Keep up the pressure, Art!”

No wonder MPs inadvertently post images of their naked genitalia on their parliamentary Twitter feed rather than on their personal Grindr page.

6. And even if you’re really good at your job – toeing the party line, keeping your constituency nutters happy, not posting pictures of your bell end on the internet and not stealing public money or having sex with children, you may still languish on the backbenches with no prospect of advancement.
Because promotion in politics is all about whether you can do seven-second soundbites.
People who enjoy talking in soundbites cluster in certain professions – marketing, sales, PR, the law and the media – silver-tongues crooks.

If you’re not one of them, you don’t stand a chance.

7. And finally. If you’re really successful as an MP and become Prime Minister, you end up on several Hit Lists. And it’s not just harmless lunatics who fantasise about killing you – it’s actual sadistic lunatics in ISIS and other terrorist organisations who may well actually kill you. And they’ll want to kill you even after you’ve retired or been thrown out of office. So you spend the rest of your life surrounded by secret service agents, wondering if a sniper is going to put a bullet through your head.

MPs – they’re vain, self-satisfied and sitting in First Class. But they’re not happy. Let them have their 10% – and breathe a sigh of relief you’re not one of them.

If this has depressed you, why not try my short jokes lists:

The best short jokes ever

The best cheese jokes in the world

The world’s best Xmas jokes

Best, funniest, most hilarious short jokes, one-liners and funny phrases ever

Here are the world’s best, funniest, silliest short jokes, one-liners, puns and funny phrases. Enjoy!

Why are horse-drawn carriages so unpopular?  Because horses are rubbish at drawing.

I hate Russian dolls. They’re so full of themselves.

What’s the difference between in-laws and outlaws?
Outlaws are wanted.

When my wife said she was leaving me because of my Monkees obsession I thought she was joking.
And then I saw her face.

What’s brown and runny?
Usain Bolt

I can’t stand being in a wheelchair.

The cross-eyed teacher had trouble controlling his pupils.

I have kleptomania, but when it gets bad, I take something for it.

A German asks for a martini.
’Dry?’ asks the barman.
 He replies: ‘Nein – just one.’

What’s small, red and whispers?
 A hoarse radish.

What’s the best thing about Switzerland?
Don’t know, but the flag’s a big plus.

Einstein’s mum: Are you happy?
 Einstein: Relatively.

I tried walking up a hill without a watch but had neither the time nor the inclination.

I was wondering why I suddenly had pentagrams on my palms. Then I remembered: I’ve been using hand sataniser.

I bought some shoes from a drug dealer. I don’t know what he laced them with but I’ve been tripping all day.

What can think the unthinkable? 
An itheberg.

I just got hit by a rented car.
 It Hertz.

I played triangle in a reggae band but left – it was just one ting after another.

‘I love snow. Actually, I hate snow.’
 – Bi-polar bear

It’s a disgrace that gingerbread men are forced to live in houses made of their own flesh.

Say what you want about deaf people …

I know a lot of jokes about unemployed people – but none of them work.

Legal fetishist gets off on a technicality.

I’m addicted to brake fluid but I can stop whenever I want.

I was wondering why the ball was getting bigger. Then it struck me.

I left my last girlfriend because she wouldn’t stop counting.
 I wonder what she’s up to now.

Knock knock.
 Who’s there?
 To.
 To who?
 To whom.

Drugs don’t kill people – people who run out of drugs kill people.

You’ve got to hand it to blind prostitutes.

I tried to join the Kleptomaniacs Anonymous meeting – but all the seats were taken.

Roman: A martinus please.
 Barman: You mean a martini?
 Roman: If I’d wanted a double, I’d’ve asked for one.

Abdicate, v. To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.

A man said to me: ‘I’m going to attack you with the neck of a guitar.’
 I said: ‘Is that a fret?’

What’s the difference between ignorance and apathy?
 I don’t know and I don’t care.

‘Describe yourself in three words. Lazy.

I wonder what ‘DON’T TOUCH’ is in Braille.

I’ve just read a book about Stockholm Syndrome. 
The first couple of chapters were awful, but by the end I loved it.

I asked the doctor to give me something for persistent wind.
 He gave me a kite.
‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I apologise’ mean the same thing – unless you’re at a funeral.

Don’t you hate it when people answer their own questions? I do.

Research shows that 6 out of 7 dwarves aren’t Happy.

‘This is your captain speaking. AND THIS IS YOUR CAPTAIN SHOUTING.’

Velcro – what a rip-off.

My dyslexia has just hit a new owl.
Why can’t you make clothes out of cheese?
 Because fromage frays.

‘I stand corrected,’ said the man in the orthopaedic shoes.

My dad’s started p*ssing with the door open.
 Which is a bit inconvenient when I’m driving him home.

My pencil isn’t prone to making Freudian Slips, but my penis.

What Iran needs now is a more modern, moderate leader – a Mullah Lite.

Room service? Send up a larger room.

The quickest way to a man’s heart is through his chest.

Did you hear about the dyslexic rock star?
He died by choking on his own Vimto.

Where there’s a will, there’s a relative.

It’s difficult explaining puns to kleptomaniacs – they’re always taking things literally.

I went on a once in a lifetime holiday.
Never again.

Masochist: ‘Hurt me.’ Sadist: ‘No.’

Make the little things count – teach maths to midgets.

Preparation H is pretty good – on the hole.

Crime in multi-storey car parks is wrong on so many different levels.

Conjunctivitis.com – that’s a site for sore eyes.

Change is inevitable – except from vending machines.

To err is human. To blame it on someone else shows management potential.

Wife: What’s on the telly?
 Husband: Dust.

I went shopping for some camouflage trousers, but I couldn’t find any.

A woman asks the barman for a double-entendre. So he gives her one.

A plateau is the highest form of flattery.

The police arrested two kids yesterday, one was drinking battery acid, the other was eating fireworks. They charged one and let the other one off.

The dentist said: ‘Say Ahhh.’ 
I said: ‘Why?’
 He said: ‘My dog’s died.’

A photon checks into a hotel and the porter asks him if he has any luggage. 
The photon replies: ‘No, I’m travelling light.’

Jesus goes into a hotel.
 He hands the receptionist three nails and says: ‘Can you put me up for the night?’

I want to die like dad – peacefully in my sleep.
 Not like mum – screaming in terror in the passenger seat.

I called my lawyer and said: ‘Can I ask you two questions?’ He said: ‘Of course. What’s the second question?’

My ultra-sensitive toothpaste gets really jealous when I use other toothpastes.

I asked the gym instructor ‘Can you teach me to do the splits?’
 He said: ‘How flexible are you?’
 I said: ‘I can’t do Tuesdays.’

The past, the present and the future were having an argument. It was tense.

I took the wife’s family out for tea and biscuits.
 They weren’t too happy about having to give blood though.

What if there were no hypothetical questions?

Pavlov is sitting at a bar when his phone rings.
He exclaims: ‘Oh no, I forgot to feed the dogs.’