The jokes below are my efforts at edgy humour; a genre that I particularly enjoy. Please do not read if easily offended.
Hello everyone. I made the mistake of travelling here by bus. I was sitting down, minding my own business when this paraplegic approached and pointed to a sign that read: 'This is a priority seat; please give it up for a disabled person.' I said "you're the man - I like you're style - you've got it going on."
The driver kicked me upstairs. I wasn't too upset though, it's a treat listening to gangster rap music at five million decibels.
I truly hate those kids on the buses these days, you know the sort, trousers up to their knees; thicker than one of Sepp Blatter's envelopes.
That Blatter is a right corrupt c**t isn't he. He's seriously gone down in my estimations - and my original estimate was relatively low.
He's clearly an out an out liar. If Blatter told me it was raining, I'd have to look out of the window before letting my bint back in the house.
Yes, believe it or not, I'm married. The best thing about my wife is she's extremely game. She's been shot over more than the Korean border.
Yesterday I asked her what she wants for Christmas, and she asked me to just surprise her. I'm going to stick a bag over her head and plow her.
Last Christmas she asked me to treat her like a footballer's wife, so I sat on a mobile phone then beat her up.
I didn't really. She's a big c**t.
The wife's weighing in at about 20 stone; she looks like a slim Karren Brady.
The best thing about fat birds is you don't have to put in too much effort to get your length damp. You can seal the deal with a family sized steak and kidney pie.
With thinner, good-looking girls, you've got to put a lot of legwork in, and who's got the time to go out and buy Rohypnol or a hammer?
I'll be honest, I'm an astonishingly lazy man, even when I use the old 'chloroform on a rag' trick; I expect the bint to go on top.
I'm only messing, I could never get involved in the whole rape thing. If I was going to rape someone though, and I'm not, *looks at watch*, it wouldn't be that Cheryl Cole. I've got no time for racists.
I can't understand this 'nation's sweetheart' thing with Cheryl. It wasn't so long ago that she was attacking toilet attendants, now because she cries over some halfwit on the X-Factor, suddenly she's Princess Diana before the wall came into play.
Trying to get a laugh out of a Diana joke is like Adrian Chiles' penis, it's rarely pulled off.
For some reason unbeknown to me, that ugly c**t Chiles is never off the box. He must be the busiest tool since Kate McCann's shovel.
That's a real room splitter: it's as clear as the chin on Karren Brady's chin.
I'll move on to safer ground. Did you know that in some parts of the world it costs just £10 to feed a child for a month? I'm guessing that it's not Jordan's house.
I once asked that Jordan out on a date, but she just blew me off.
That rejection really hurt my credibility as a ladies-man; I'd told my friends that I'd smashed through more back doors than the serious crime squad.
My pals now know that my claim to have slept with over fifty women was an exaggeration. They're even suspicious about my revised figure of five: luckily, the police can back me up on three cases.
Are we all looking forward to celebrating The Ashes? Yep, Thatcher's nearly dead. *looks at watch* Not long now.
I'll leave you with a little cricketing anecdote.
I used to be an apprentice groundsman at Lords, and as a perk I was given two front row tickets to every match. I took my then girlfriend to a game and the drunken skank thought it would be funny to run on the pitch and move the rope when the ball was heading for a '4'. I had to break up with her; she just wouldn't respect my boundaries. Thank you and good night.