Text Joke
Fucking learn to spell you idiots!!
… is pretty shit.
Wife texting husband at work.
“Windows at home frozen – what should I do?”
Husband – “spray some de-icer or pour tepid water on them”
Wife a few minutes later – “Done that – now computer won’t work at all”!
Just a warning. We were sent these. We don’t agree with them, nor do they reflect our opinion of the people, races and religions involved. You may find some of these jokes offensive. Clicking the jump indicates just how depraved and insensitive you really are! 
And you’ve been warned. And we’ve left the spelling just the way it was sent to us too.
David Thorne’s latest email prank is doing the rounds, so we felt it was cool to post here. Plus, David obviously needs the publicity, because I think he’s starting to fade into obscurity….. NOT! Go Dave!
“YOU HAVE TO DO YOUR TIMESHEETS. EVERYONE DOES.”
I don’t like doing time-sheets. I mentioned this to my partner Holly and she said “God you are lazy, just write down when you arrive and leave. How hard can it be?” Which must apparently be how it works in non-design related companies. Although designers are rarely known for their organisational skills, we are expected to compile a methodical record throughout the day of each project we are working on.
I generally refuse to do this. Partly because there would be far too many unaccountable hours to explain and partly because if I wanted to ‘clock in, clock off’, I would work in a factory. Probably making garage-door remotes or something.
Even then, I doubt I would be expected to write down ‘Made a garage-door remote’ after making each garage-door remote.
Also, I received a bit of slack recently after posting a series of formal complaints. Apparently, I was picking on Simon for no other reason than to be cruel and tormentive. While I am happy to be labeled such, and, to be honest, have been labeled worse, there are many other reasons to pick on Simon. Here are just three:
1. Simon super-glued his calculator to his desk to stop people borrowing it. Its position at the back of the desk and the angle of the LCD screen requires that he stand to use it.
2. Simon times and records toilet breaks and personal calls on his time-sheets. He also times and records the time it takes him to do his time-sheets on his time-sheets.
3. I once asked Simon what three items he would rescue from a house fire and he replied “My cat, the home insurance policy, and my Invicta watch collection.”
From: Simon Dempsey
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 9.11am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Timesheets
Did you use my desk while I was away? You’re not allowed to go on my computer. I can tell someone used it because I shut it down before I left and pulled out the power cord but it was on this morning and where is my mousepad and what is this shit drawn on my desk?
I need to collect everyones time sheets for last week as well. Have you done them? From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 9.52am
To: Simon Dempsey
Subject: Re: Timesheets
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 9.11am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Timesheets
Did you use my desk while I was away? You’re not allowed to go on my computer. I can tell someone used it because I shut it down before I left and pulled out the power cord but it was on this morning and where is my mousepad and what is this shit drawn on my desk?
I need to collect everyones time sheets for last week as well. Have you done them? From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 13 February 2012 9.52am
To: Simon Dempsey
Subject: Re: Timesheets
Good morning Simon,
No, I have decided not to do time-sheets anymore. I’m not a robot. As your new token responsibility as time-sheet collector is essentially the office equivalent of placing an OCD child in charge of equally spaced fridge-magnet distribution to keep it occupied while The View is on, this saves you from having to bother with the whole embarrassing process.
Also, while I generally avoid going anywhere near your cubicle of sorrow, lest the lack of atmosphere suck me in and cause my eyes to pop out like in that Arnold Schwarzenegger movie where he is on Mars and his eyes pop out, I was required to access your computer in your absence due to a client’s request for files.
I actually missed you while you were away. To counter this, I placed a plank of wood in your chair and wrote ‘Simon’ on it. He said I could use your stuff. Regards, David.
Sorry, but we couldn’t resist – they might be a bit old, but they’re still funny
roses are read
violets are blue
you look bangable
so i’ll add you
roses are red
violets are blue
I feel like a quickie
how about you
roses are red
violets are blue
give me a diamond
your balls will be too
roses are red
cabbages are green
open your legs
and i’ll fill you with cream
How tough are Australian men??
The scene is set: a dark night, cold wind blowing, campfire flickering, stars twinkling in the dark sky.
Three hang-glider pilots are sitting by the campfire,
One from Australia , one from Seth Efrika and one from New Zulland.
One from Australia , one from Seth Efrika and one from New Zulland.
Each embroiled in the bravado for which they are famous.
The night of tales begins…
Kiven the Kiwi says, ‘I must be the meanest, toughest, heng glider there es. Why, jist the other day I linded in a field and scared a crocodeale, who came out of the swamp and ate sux min who were standen close by. I grebbed the crocodeale and wristled him to du ground and killed em with my beer hends’
Hansie from Seth Efrika (who typically can’t stand to be bettered) said, ‘Well you guys, I lended orfter a 200 mile flight in my heng glider on a tiny trail, and a Namibian snike slid out from under a rock and made a move on me. I grebbed de borsted with me bare hinds and beet it’s head off ind then sucked the poison from it’s body down in one gulp. End I’m still here today’
Colin, the Tough Australian, remained silent, slowly stoking the fire with his penis.
A husband and wife are shopping when the husband picks up a case of beer and puts it in their cart.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ asks the wife.
‘They’re on sale, only $30 for 24 cans he replies.
‘Put them back, we can’t afford them demands the wife, and so they carry on shopping.
A few aisles further on along the woman picks up a $60 jar of face cream and puts it in the basket.
What do you think you’re doing?’ asks the husband.
It’s my face cream. It makes me look beautiful,’ replies the wife.
Her husband retorts: ‘So does 24 cans of beer and it’s half the price.’
He never knew what hit him.
I declare these truths to be self evident…. 
