Sunday, 18 November 2012
Since I started hanging out with a new group of friends earlier in the year, it has opened up many more creative outlets for Yo Momma jokes (which as we all know, I adore beyond rhyme or reason). The below started as a perfectly normal conversation between me and a friend and then, as most of our conversations tend to do, escalated quickly into a spiral of increasingly inventive insults.
The results are as follows, and do get progressively not safe for work. You have been warned...
Cricket: I've been watching Lord of the Rings. I tried your mum's ring of power but it was more like a bangle.
Me: Yeah? Well I heard your mum's ring was forged by eleven kings, not elven. And when I say 'forged'...
Cricket: Your mum blows the horn of Gondor, if you know what I'm saying. Dirty stewards.
Me: Your mum's vagina is so deep, they call her the Mine of Moria.
Cricket: Your mum's so loose not even an Ent has enough wood for her.
Me: Your mum's so ugly, Gandalf let her pass! Bazinga. Also, your mum's such a whore, they call her the Gap of Rohan. The internet is responsible for that last joke, I admit, but it was too good to resist.
Cricket: Okay. Your mum's such a slut not even ten thousand orcs could fill her Helms Deep.
Me: Oh it's like that, is it? Well they don't call them the 'Riders' of Rohan for nothing. We should totally play my drinking Harry Potter Cluedo game sometime.
Cricket: Awesome! Count me in. By the way, I heard there was a big dead snake in your mum's chamber of secrets.
Me: Your mum may not be called Luna but she certainly knows how to Lovegood.
Cricket: Your mum lets schoolchildren enter her Goblet of Fire.
Me: HA! Okay, but the Triwizard Tournament happens every weekend... in your mum's bedroom.
Cricket: Your mum's so dirty, anyone who puts his wand in her catches the Dark Mark.
Me: Your mum's so ugly, they call her She Who Must Not Be Naked.
Tuesday, 6 November 2012
I came into work yesterday morning, and had only just logged into my computer when a message from Wetsoks flashed up on instant messenger.
Wetsoks: (brightly) Morning buddy!
Me: Morning, brah.
There was a pause of several seconds.
Wetsoks: Is it too early to show you pictures of a dead guy?
Me: I.... can you wait til 10am?
Me: I just need a coffee first. And then you can show me all the dead guys you want. Wait. I didn't mean that.
Wetsoks: It's not gory.
Me: Thank god. It's from Reddit, I assume?
Me: Are we normal?
After examining the photo, which was some poor guy who'd smashed headfirst into a lorry while on his motorobike, I had some questions.
Me: It's a pity the helmet didn't save him. How come he's barefoot?
Wetsoks: Shoes flew off. Apparently they were found a bit further away.
Me: Huh. Buddy, if that happens to me, could you do me a favour and put my shoes back on?
There was a brief pause.
Wetsoks: Dude ...I kind of want a motorbike.
Me: So do I. The internet has taught us nothing today. In fact, I believe it has actually somehow decreased the common sense I previously possessed.
Wetsoks: (sagely) The internet is a cruel and unyielding mistress.