Every website needs a filthy joke

Actually there are two here. But if you are an innocent young child trawling the internet and you’ve arrived here because your assignment is some stupid thing like ‘The History of Television’ then you really mustn’t read these jokes without an adult’s permission. So if you’re curious, the best thing is, print the jokes — without reading them, mind, no peeping — and show them to a responsible adult. The nun who teaches Divinity at your school should be OK, or an unmarried aunt aged 50 or over, or the vicar (unless he’s got a beard and a guitar and says he doesn’t believe in God). Just get the adult to check that the jokes are suitable before you look at them.

This Catholic from Yorkshire went to see the priest. “Father,” he said, “There’s something that’s troubling me a lot. Could I tell you about it and ask for guidance?”

“Of course my son.”

“Well the thing is . . .” The Yorkshireman paused and the priest saw a deep blush appear.

“Go on my son.”

The Yorkshireman looked very uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Well the thing is, on Monday afternoon I saw the wife bending over the chest freezer and I was overcome father, completely overcome with desire. The fact is, well . . .”

“Go on my son.”

“Well the fact is, Father, I took her from behind.”

“Was your wife sober and in full control of her faculties and did she consent clearly and unequivocally?”

“Oh yes Father, she was begging for it, absolutely begging for it. . .”

  "Yes, all right, all right. Now I hope this was normal vaginal penetration and not any sort of perverted thing involving your wife’s anus that you did here, my son."

  “Involving what, Father?”

“Did you take her up the arse at all?”

"Oh no father, nothing like that. Just the normal carry on you know, but from behind."

“Did you use any form of contraception other than the withdrawal or rhythm methods that are sanctioned by the Holy Church for use within marriage?”

“Oh no, Father, there wasn’t time.”

“Well you haven’t sinned my son; your conscience is clear.”

“But Father, will I still be able to get into heaven?”

“Of course you will my son.”

“Well that’s a fucking relief because we’re banned from Asda!”



There was a Frenchman, an Italian, and a bloke from Rotherham. They were discussing the methods they used to give their wives sexual pleasure.

The Frenchman said, “I turn down ze bedroom light and I kiss ’er and cuddle ’er and whisper leetle words of love in ’er ear. Then I gently undress ’er and ’ave ’er lying on ze bed on ’er back, with nothing on. I carefully pour a little French champagne of good quality on her quivering body. Something like a Moet et Chandon Brut Imperial Rosé at around £25 a bottle works very well I find. Gently I massage ze champagne into her skin, concentrating on all ze leetle places zat bring pleasure to a lady. Ohh la la! Soon she is in a state of ecstasy so intense zat ’er body hovers above ze bed at a height of 500mm.”

“Pah!” said the Italian. “When I maka da love to my wife I do alla da basic foreplay stuff, justa da same as you Pierre. But I use a bottle of the finest Italian red wine, maybe a Lugarotti Rubesco Riserva 1990, or something else at no less than £40 a bottle. I pour the wine sparingly over ’er naked body and soon she hovers fully one metre abova da bed”

They both turned expectantly to the Yorkshireman. “Well, it’s dead simple really what I do, like. When I’ve supped me Carlsberg Special we have a shag, and when I’ve finished I jump off and wipe me knob on the bedroom curtains, and our lass goes through the fucking ceiling!