[DD.]

BARACK OBAMA MET WITH THE QUEEN OF ENGLAND.

He asked her, “Your Majesty, how do you run such an efficient government? Are there any tips you can give me?”

“Well,” said the Queen, “the most important thing is to surround yourself with intelligent people.”

Obama frowned, and then asked, “But how do I know the people around are really intelligent?”

The Queen took a sip of tea. “Oh, that’s easy; you just ask them to answer an intelligent riddle.”

The Queen pushed a button on her intercom. “Please send David Cameron in here, would you?”

Cameron walked into the room and said, “Yes, Your Majesty?”

The Queen smiled and said, “Answer me this please, David. Your mother and father have a child. It is not your brother and it is not your sister. Who is it?”

Without pausing for a moment, Cameron answered, “That would be me.”

“Yes! Very good,” said the Queen.

Obama went back home to ask Joe Biden the same question. “Joe, answer this for me. Your mother and your father have a child. It’s not your brother and it’s not your sister. Who is it?”

“I’m not sure,” said Biden. “Let me get back to you on that one.” He went to his advisers and asked everyone, but none could give him an answer.

Finally, Biden ran in to Sarah Palin out eating one night. Biden asked, “Sarah, can you answer this for me? Your mother and father have a child and it’s not your brother or your sister. Who is it?”

Sarah Palin answered right back, “That’s easy, it’s me!”

Biden smiled, and said, “Thanks!” Then, he went back to speak with Obama.

“Say, I did some research and I have the answer to that riddle. It’s Sarah Palin!”

Obama got up, stomped over to Biden, and angrily yelled into his face, “No! You idiot! It’s David Cameron!”

[Yorkie]

 

[John]

And some jokes that arrived in my inbox

A Roman walks into a bar and asks for a martinus. “You mean a martini?” asks the bartender. The Roman replies, “If I wanted a double, I would have asked for it.”

Another Roman walks into a bar, holds up two fingers, and says “Five beers please!”

A logician’s wife is having a baby. The doctor hands the baby to the dad. His wife asks if it’s a boy or girl. The logician replies “Yes.”

Pavlov is at a bar enjoying a pint. The phone rings and he shouts “Oh! I forgot to feed the dog.”

A programmer’s wife asks him to pick up a loaf of bread and, if they have eggs, get a dozen. The programmer comes home with a dozen loaves of bread.

Shrodinger’s cat walks into the bar and doesn’t.

[rogerbodger]

Brilliant, I especially love the "a Roman walks into a bar" ones

[DD.]

Ed Miliband walks into a bank to cash a cheque. "Good morning", says Ed, "could you please cash this cheque for me?"

Cashier: "It would be my pleasure Sir, but could you please show me some identification?"

Miliband: "Truthfully. I did not bring my ID with me as I didn't think there was any need to. But hang on! I'm Ed Miliband, Leader of the Opposition and of the Labour Party!!!"

Cashier: "Yes Sir, I know who you are, but with all the regulations and monitoring of the banks because of impostors and forgers etc, I must insist on seeing some identification".

Miliband: "Just ask any of the customers here at the bank who I am and they will tell you. Everybody knows who I am!"

Cashier: "I'm sorry Sir, but these are the bank rules and I must follow them".

Miliband: "I am urging you please, to cash this cheque for me".

Cashier: "Look Sir, this is what we can do. One day Colin Montgomery came into the bank without any ID. To prove he was Colin Montgomery he pulled out his putter and putted a ball along the floor and into a small cup. With that sort of skill we knew it was Colin Montgomery and we cashed his cheque. On another occasion, Andy Murray came in without any ID. He pulled out his tennis racquet and lobbed a tennis ball straight into my teacup with such a spectacular shot that we all knew it was Andy Murray.

Ed Miliband stood there thinking and thinking and then finally says, "To be honest, there is nothing that comes to my mind. I can't think of a single thing that I'm any good at."

Cashier: "Will it be large or small notes you require Mr Miliband?

[Blackpool rocket]

Thanks   

I now have to clean coffee off my keyboard 

[wighty]

I did wonder how long it would take for political jokes to surface. But that one's not too bad.

[Sparkyrog]

that's a Cracker DD Face-booked it with my game friends it just hit 2950 world wide 

[DD.]

Where do you think I got it from!!

[Sparkyrog]

LOL

[Tenhens]

The problem with political jokes is they get elected.

[hamstergbert]

While walking down the street one day, a politician is tragically hit by a large shocking pink campaign mini-bus (dashing to it's next female-voter patronising venue) and dies. His soul arrives in heaven and is met by St. Peter at the entrance.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem. We seldom see a politician around these parts, you see, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in." says the politician.

"Well, I'd like to but I have orders from higher up. What we'll do is have you spend one day in Hell and one in Heaven. Then you can choose where to spend eternity."

"Really, I've made up my mind. I want to be in Heaven," says the politician

"I'm sorry but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts the politician to the lift and he goes down, down, down to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a green golf course. In the distance is a club and standing in front of it are all his friends and other people who had worked with him, everyone is very happy, healthy looking and well dressed. They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had while getting rich on their expenses and backhanders. They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar. Also present is the Devil, who really is a very friendly chap, life and (lost) soul of the party who has a good time dancing and telling jokes.

They are having such a good time that, before he realizes it, it is time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves while the lift rises. The lift goes up, up, up and the door reopens on Heaven where St. Peter is waiting for him.

"Now it's time to visit Heaven." So 24 hours pass with the politician joining a group of contented souls moving from cloud to cloud, playing the harp and singing. They have a good time and, before he realizes it, the 24 hours have gone by and St. Peter returns.

"Well then, you've spent a day in Hell and another in Heaven. Now choose your eternity."

He reflects for a minute, then the politician answers: "Well, I would never have thought it, I mean Heaven has been delightful, but I think I would be better off in Hell."

So Saint Peter escorts him to the lift and he goes down, down, down to Hell. Now the doors of the lift open and he is in the middle of a barren land covered dark, evil smelling flames. He sees all his friends, dressed in rags, being tortured by imps with pitchforks who laugh at their agony. The Devil comes over to the Republican and lays an arm on his neck.

"I don't understand," stammers the politician. Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and club and we ate lobster and caviar and danced and had a great time. Now all there is a wasteland of sulphurous fire, full of imps with pitchforks torturing my friends.

The Devil looks at him, smiles and says, "Yesterday we were campaigning. Now it is after you voted us in!"

[hamstergbert]

Thinkers Anonymous

It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties now and then -- to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone -- "to relax," I told myself -- but I knew it wasn't true.

Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally I was  thinking all the time. That was when things began to sour at home. One evening I had turned off the TV and asked my wife about the meaning of life. She spent that night at her mother's.

I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunch time so I could read Thoreau and Kafka. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What is it exactly we are doing here?"

One day the boss called me in. He said, "Listen, I like you, and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job." 

This gave me a lot to think about.

I came home early after my conversation with the boss. "Sweetheart," I confessed, "I've been thinking ..." "I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce!" 

"But darling, surely it's not that serious."

"It is serious," she said, lower lip aquiver. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money, so if you keep on thinking, we won't have any money!"

"That's a faulty syllogism," I said impatiently. She exploded in tears of rage and frustration, but I was in no mood to deal with the emotional drama.

"I'm going to the library," I snarled as I stomped out the door. I headed for the library, in the mood for some Nietzsche. I roared into the car park and ran up to the big glass doors... They didn't open. The library was closed. To this day, I believe that a Higher Power was looking out for me that night.

As I sank to the ground, clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathustra, a poster caught my eye. "Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinker's Anonymous poster. Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker. I never miss a TA meeting.   

At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's." Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job, and things are a lot better at home.
Life just seemed ... easier, somehow, as soon as I stopped thinking. I reckon the road to recovery is nearly complete for me. Today, I decided to vote Lib Dem in the election.

[slingshot2000]

Nicola Sturgeon is touring Perthshire in the First Minister’s chauffeur driven car.

 Suddenly a cow jumps out into the road. They hit it full on and the car comes to a stop.

 Nicola in her usual jaunty manner, says to the chauffeur :

 " You get out and check - you were driving."

 The chauffeur gets out, checks and reports that the animal is dead.

 " You were driving, go and tell the farmer," says Nicola, ”I can’t afford to be blamed for anything.”

The chauffeur walks up the drive to the farmhouse and returns five hours later totally plastered,
 his hair ruffled and with a big grin on his face.

 " My God, what happened to you ?" asks Nicola.

 The chauffeur replies : " When I got there, the farmer opened his best bottle of single malt whisky,

 The wife gave me a slap-up meal and the daughter made love to me."

 " What on earth did you say?" asks Nicola.

 " I knocked on the door and when it was answered, I said to them, I'm Nicola Sturgeon’s chauffeur and I've just killed the cow."

[mumofstig]

  *coffee-sur-keyboard*