I enjoy losing my mind, fun dementially. [Speaking of which, government cheese subsidies are fund emmenthal policy]
When it comes to bad mafia puns, the Gents defer to the crapo di tutti crappy: Don Corneone.
During my time as an executioner, I made sure to be head of the game, by acquiring a unique skull set, from the time I was a guillotiney bopper. I got gallowing reviews which was always excellent noose. Even though I hung my clients out to dry (though sometimes I got them stoned) I never faced the firing line. Of course, the work is no longer shocking; these days the business won’t survive without capital injections, which makes me sigh at night. My goal nonetheless is to fill every day with poisonable experiences.
Dear Pun Gents, I’m in direct sales (romance enhancement products) and I’m looking for a professional, classy, but fun(ny) name for my team of ladies that the company and my downline will approve. ~Ami, Wichita, Kansas
AS THE PUN GENTS SEE IT:
- Hot Damn!sels
- The Empoweresses
- Ex-Prude Advisors
- The Super Eros [Superheros]
There’s been a surge in prostitute activity, which can be traced to global warming; aka a Whoricane (or Whornado). On the other side of the world this is known as a Thai poon.
The carpenter’s house was his pride and joist. He said that building it was a sawdust-flying endeavour. Have you ever beam to saw it? Truss me, it’s worth it. It’s in Bevelry Hills, in a dark wood.
In a fit of madness, the carnivore ate a seaweed sandwich — it was a rye for kelp.
You’ll make a chimpanzee if you give it coffee.