Australian Girlfriend

Bruce was driving over the Sydney Harbour Bridge one day when he saw his girlfriend Sheila about to throw herself off.

Bruce slammed on the brakes and yelled, "Sheila, what the hell d'ya think you're doing?".

Sheila turned around with a tear in her eye and said, "G'day Bruce. Ya got me pregnant and so now I'm gonna kill myself."

Bruce got a lump in his throat when he heard this.

"Sheila," he said, "Not only are you a great Shag, but you're a real sport too." Then he drove off.

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The Age of a Woman

Aged 15 - 18 a woman is like China or Iran. Developing at a sizzling rate with a lot of potential but as yet still not free or open.

Aged 18 - 21 a woman is like Africa or Australia. She is half discovered, half wild and naturally beautiful with bushland around the fertile deltas.

Aged 21 - 30 a woman is like America or Japan. Completely discovered, very well developed and open to trade especially with countries with cash or cars.

Aged 30 - 35, she is like India or Spain. Very hot, relaxed and convinced of its own beauty.

Aged 35 - 40 a woman is like France or Argentina. She may have been half destroyed during the war but can still be a warm and desirable place to visit.

Aged 40 - 50 she is like Yugoslavia or Iraq. She lost the war and is haunted by past mistakes. Massive reconstruction is now necessary.

Aged 50 - 60 she is like Russia or Canada. Very wide, quiet and the borders are practically un-patrolled but the frigid climate keeps people away.

Aged 60 - 70 a woman is like England or Mongolia. With a glorious and all conquering past but alas no future.

After 70, they become Albania or Pakistan Everyone knows where it is, but no one wants to go there.

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The following are all replies that women have put on British Child Support Agency forms in the section for listing father's details:

1. Regarding the identity of the father of my twins, child A was fathered by [name removed]. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of child B, but I believe that he was conceived on the same night.

2. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.

3. I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party [address and date given] where I had unprotected sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father can you send me his phone number ? Thanks.

4. I don't know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he's had it replaced.

5. I have never had sex with a man. I am awaiting a letter from Pope confirming that my son's conception was immaculate and that he is Christ risen again.

6. I cannot tell you the name of child A's dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the British economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by the country. Please advise.

7. I do not know who the father of my child was as all squaddies look the same to me. I can confirm that he was a Royal Green Jacket.

8. [name given] is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him can you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs ?

9. From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Euro Disney maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom.

10. So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a programme about eggs earlier in the evening. If I'd have stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at [address given] mine might have remained unfertilised.

Bar Talk

An attractive woman goes up to the bar in a quiet, rural pub.

She gestures alluringly to the bartender who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers. When he does so, she begins to gently caress his beard, which is full and bushy.

"Are you the manager?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.

"Actually, no" he replies.

"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him..." she purrs, running her hands up beyond his beard and into his hair.

"I'm afraid I can't," breathes the bartender, clearly aroused.

"Is there anything I can do?".

"Yes there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues alluringly, popping a couple of fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.

"Tell him there is no toilet paper in the ladies room."

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Private Sunbathing

Joan, who was rather well-proportioned, spent almost all of her vacation sunbathing on the roof of her hotel.

She wore a bathing suit the first day, but on the second, she decided that no one could see her way up there, and she slipped out of it for an overall tan.

She'd hardly begun when she heard someone running up the stairs.

She was lying on her stomach, so she just pulled a towel over her rear.
"Excuse me, miss," said the flustered assistant manager of the hotel, out of breath from running up the stairs. "The Hilton doesn't mind your sunbathing on the roof, but we would very much appreciate your wearing a bathing suit as you did yesterday."

"What difference does it make?" Joan asked rather calmly. "No one can see me up here, and besides, I'm covered with a towel."

"Not exactly," said the embarrassed man. "You're lying on the dining room skylight."

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