It’s as funny as listening to Barry Chuckle and Bobby Davros reading 50 shades at Hammersmith Hospital’s Genito-urinary waiting room while passing round slices of poo-pie.
It’s not funny. The funny has passed on. This funny is no more! It has ceased to be funny!
It’s expired and gone to meet it’s writer. It’s stiff! Bereft of laughs. If I hadn’t scanned it into the site it would be propping up DVDs. It’s comic processes are now history.
It’s shuffled off this funny coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleeding books unfunny!
AIDS? Got it?
BROWN AIDS? Want it?
Hey what were you expecting?
And that’s just the second page.
Catch us next week for even more hilarity as we try to pass the wretched, stinging and oversize joke-stool through a tiny, dry, haemorrhoidic balloon-knot while chewing on a piece of said poo-pie.