Joke Type: wordplay

Wordplay jokes, punchlines, setups, and comedy bits from Chaotic Meh — sorted for people who know exactly what kind of bad idea they want.

  • Cider for the Pain

    A little girl came running into the house bawling her eyes out and cradling her hand: “Mummy, quick! Get me a glass of cider!” she wailed.

    “Why do you want a glass of cider?” asked her mom.

    “I cut my hand on a thorn, and I want the pain to go away!”

    Confused, but weary of the child’s whining, the mother obliged and poured her a glass of cider. The little girl immediately dunked her hand in it.

    “Ouch! It still hurts! This cider doesn’t work!” she whined.

    “What are you talking about?” asked her increasingly perplexed parent, “What ever made you think that cider would ease your pain?”

    “Well, I overheard my big sister say that whenever she gets a prick in her hand, she can’t wait to get it in cider.”

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  • Renaissance Faire Riot

    A riot broke out at the local Renaissance Faire. Things got pretty ugly, but luckily the authorities intervened before anyone could start luting.

  • The Condom Flew Across the Room

    Why did the condom fly across the room?

    Because it got really pissed off.

  • X-Ray to X-Rated

    If I were to ever get X-ray vision, I expect it would last about ten seconds before becoming X-rated vision.

  • Mr. Insurance Duck

    I’m confused by those ads where a duck is trying to sell people disability insurance by quacking, “AFLAC!” at them. If instead he just yelled, “Duck!” I bet most debilitating injuries could be avoided altogether. I’m on to your scam, Mr. Insurance Duck!

  • Arrest a Mime

    If I were a cop, I’d look for an excuse to arrest a mime just so I could tell them they had the right to remain silent.

  • Take Something for My Kleptomania

    I thought about trying to take something for my kleptomania, but that sort of defeats the purpose, then, doesn’t it?

  • Accountant’s Creative Job Title Consultation

    A woman walks into her accountant’s office and tells him that she needs to file her taxes. The accountant says, “Before we begin, I’ll need to ask a few questions.”

    He gets her name, address, social security number, etc. and then asks, “What is your occupation?”

    The woman replies, “I’m a whore.”

    The accountant balks and says, “No, no, no. That will never work. That is much too crass. Let’s try to rephrase that.”

    The woman, “Ok, I’m a prostitute.”

    “No, that is still too crude. Try again.”

    They both think for a minute, then the woman states, “I’m a chicken farmer.”

    The accountant asks, “What does chicken farming have to do with being a whore or a prostitute?”

    “Well, I raised over 5,000 cocks last year.”

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  • Number One

    Last night, my girlfriend told me that I’m her “number one.” That’s just great: Not only does she see another man, but I’m more numb than he is.