An alcoholic was looking for a car parking spot, driving round and around, nothing was available.
He figured a quick word to his God might help.
“Lord, I know we don’t talk much and I know I must have disappointed you with my wretched life, but if you could just see your way to helping me out this once and finding me somewhere to park my car I would be eternally grateful. And to prove it, I’ll give up the drink.”
Just then the clouds in the sky parted and a beam of sunlight lay upon an empty space.
“Never mind, I’ve found one…”
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It’s an US joke on French people.
Jean Marie Bigard:
“ At the gates of paradise, a newcomer begins his story:
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I had suspected my wife of having an extramarital relationship for some time. So I came home unexpectedly and obviously, I found her completely naked on the bed. I immediately searched the apartment to find the culprit. In vain. And then, I remembered that living on the 15th floor of a tower, we had a small balcony. So I opened the French window and that’s where I saw this man suspended in the void and clinging to the balcony railing. I stomped on his hands so that he fell, but he held on. So I went to get a hammer. With big blows on each hand, he ended up letting go. But a tree amortised its fall. Seeing that he was still moving, I grabbed the refrigerator in the kitchen and tipped it over on this individual. The effort was so violent that I succumbed to a heart attack. And so here I am.
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Oh well! Answer St. Pierre passionately.
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It’s okay you are admitted to paradise. A second man shows up shortly after and begins to tell the story of his death in St. Peter:
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You see, he begins, I was repainting my balcony on the 17th floor of a tower. My stool wobbled and I tipped into the void. But I had the opportunity to catch up at a balcony, two floors below. I thought I was saved when the owner of this balcony began to trample on my hands and then break my fingers with a hammer. He was furious that I clung to his balcony. And worse, when I let go, as I didn’t die right away, he threw his fridge on my head to finish me off. St Pierre:
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Yes, I heard about this story, you can enter heaven. A third man arrives and also begins his story in St. Peter’s:
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Frankly, I don’t know how it happened! I was hidden naid in a fridge and here I am!!!
To see
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Thank you for taking the trouble to explain it to me.
It has not made me smile either, each to their own, as they say.
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A buddhist asks for a hot dog. The vendor asks how she’d like it.
The buddhist says: “Make me one with everything”.
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Buddhist “Where’s my change?”
Vendor “Change comes from within”
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Someone actually tried that joke (using pizza rather than hot dog) with the Dalai Lama, but the DL didn’t get it.
St Pierre again … he rocks. 
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All I can say is, wow.
DG…
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I was at the Tattoo parlour the other day getting a new tattoo.
Two young ladies came in and one said that she wants a “W” tattooed on both her bum cheeks. Her friend asked,”Why?”
To which she responded, “So that when I bend over, it says WoW”.
DG…
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I wonder where that picture has been taken!
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In a dusty springfield? 
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It is allegedly Art.
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Not really a joke, but seeing the headline in the Times’ review today made me smile…“Roger Daltrey at 81 really worried about finishing his current tour”. Talk about My Generation!
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Angus isn’t the only one pleased about the existence of the letter G
Without it this would be a very different business.
Willy.
PS No relation.
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