Post by personunknown on Jan 30, 2024 17:38:57 GMT
Might have mentioned it before but if I haven't. One of my friends does stand up and he occasionally runs a joke past me for my input. He once got booed offstage for a joke about Raoul Moat and the RSPCA nocturnal animal feeding habits. I found it very funny. This below is one of the darkest he has ever come up with. I've told him no, plus it's more shock value than being funny. Maybe he can sell it to Jerry Sadowitz?
' I live in a very rough part of Leeds, I've been burgled twice and mugged in the street, all in the last two years. The police were useless, so I thought enough is enough. I went to the gym, took boxing lessons and after six months, I felt confident enough to take on anyone who meant me harm. So it's late evening and I'm coming out of the corner shop and this guy comes shuffling towards me. He's stick thin, clothes hanging off him, sunken eyes, palid pock marked skin, all the junkie traits. He moves towards me, mumbling something unintelligible with a hand held out.
' No mate', I say forcefully.
One of his hands moves to his jacket pockets. A knife?
I don't give him a chance. I swing my right arm hard, fist clenched, straight into his mouth. I hear a crack and he goes down instantly. I give him a couple of size nine kicks to the ribs to ensure his incapacitation. Then the object he was reaching for falls out of his jacket pocket. It's a lanyard with attached laminate card stating he's a cancer patient collecting for Macmillan Nurses.'
' I live in a very rough part of Leeds, I've been burgled twice and mugged in the street, all in the last two years. The police were useless, so I thought enough is enough. I went to the gym, took boxing lessons and after six months, I felt confident enough to take on anyone who meant me harm. So it's late evening and I'm coming out of the corner shop and this guy comes shuffling towards me. He's stick thin, clothes hanging off him, sunken eyes, palid pock marked skin, all the junkie traits. He moves towards me, mumbling something unintelligible with a hand held out.
' No mate', I say forcefully.
One of his hands moves to his jacket pockets. A knife?
I don't give him a chance. I swing my right arm hard, fist clenched, straight into his mouth. I hear a crack and he goes down instantly. I give him a couple of size nine kicks to the ribs to ensure his incapacitation. Then the object he was reaching for falls out of his jacket pocket. It's a lanyard with attached laminate card stating he's a cancer patient collecting for Macmillan Nurses.'
