2009 Pun Off Punniest of Show Routine :: Farts and Terrorism

Pat’s 2009 Pun Off “Punniest of Show” Routine :: Farts and Terrorism

I’ll cut to the cheese:  I had a you reeka moment while reading an article in Ass Choir magazine.

It said that though Western peoples are controlling their emissions, there are still vast buildups of natural gas, held in tense grip between belligerent Cheeks in the Mid East.

This has led to methane-ous crimes among Arab arsetalkocracies, including the assgassination of the Blue Angel, leader of the Fartsee people, which has the hole region under a terrible cloud. The stealth bomber let loose in a crowded theatre hot box; it was John Wilts-the-Booth, a has-beans actor, aka Jack the Ripper, who suffocated his victim in the dark.

Since then, nonstop stench warfare: silent-but-deadly rocket blasts (outside the Qatar embarrassee) and the cries of aerate sirens. Ol factories have been odoured shut down for safety. In Krakow meanwhile, Eeeeewww leaders have held nothing in there but talks for days– many high rank officials are holding their noses in response to the colon of doody.

Egyptian statesman Atef Ebeid (Burrito) also scented a strong message: He let one slip recently, boasting “In Egypt, we have ‘toot’ in common. We created the mysterious Sphinx, which baffle the world. Now we have a mighty Force of Air. Let smell-odious trumpets sound! Let the infidels sulphur!”

I’m no Nostrildamus, but my analysis? Throw caulking to the wind, and plug holes in these terrorassts: That would help rectumfy everything before it goes any farter!

Thank you, it’s been a slice.

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Pat’s 2007 Pun Off Punniest of Show Routine :: Puns about Puns

Pat’s 2007 Pun Off Punniest of Show Routine :: Puns about Puns

Read Pat’s first-person reportage from the 2007 Pun Off in Austin, Texas (National Post)

Most puns are just pointless yawn sequiturs. For example: tree puns are not very poplar. Gambling puns are real eye-rollers. Puns about radio frequencies should be band. Video games? No pun nintendo’d! Food puns are hard to take in ingest, and liver puns taste awful — who cares if they’re full of irony! Chicken puns are fowl, obviously, and puns about dismembered cows are absolutely a tear a bull. Islam puns are so offensive, they give me koranaries. So no mo’hammeding it up. And midget puns? Simply the lowest form of humour. The joke’s on me though: as a punster who is also Roman Catholic, I’m pretty much guaranteed never to have sects!

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Pat’s 2005 Pun Off Punniest of Show Routine :: Cannibalism

Pat’s 2005 Pun Off Punniest of Show Routine :: Cannibalism

The transcript of Pat’s bronze-medal winning performance (score: 38 out of a possible 40)

(Intro: points to podium, displaying sign saying ‘This is my Hannibal lectern‘)

Men and women of good taste, great to finally eat you! I wouldn’t lie, my mother braised me well, so that’s no can o’ bull. After years in the Pizza Corpse working as a human-eat-arian, I’m here finally to compete; I promise you I’m no flesh in the pan.

My girlfriend, a cute little fillet, name’s Cake Moss, spends all her time cooking in the microwaif, didn’t think I’d make it this far, but now she’s eating Russell Crowe. Sometimes I’m not so glad I ator – I mean, date her. Nothing’s worse than a jealous liver.

But I won’t Lecter you; I’m not one of those annoying people who never stops chewing you out. You’re all men of convection; I’m practically in oven with you; I am enjoying you people with relish.

Please come over to my place for a donner party. Don’t worry if you are lack-toes intolerant, I’ll strap the feet-bag right on you. You like fresh brain muffins? Exskullent! Then it’s toast slathered with marma-ladies, scrambled legs, all washed down with a full-bodied wino. And dessert: adam’s apple pie with eyes cream and my favourite, J-Lo pudding pops. Bring your kids over to play too – I’d consider it a veal good time.

Now I’m off on a tour of international menus: first it’s Iceland for Bjork chops – then Manila for some Phyllopinos, and also France to have a true hommelette breakfast! Last stop’s the Vatican, where I hope to have the pope’s ear. Hope he listens – someone’s got to keep that guy a-cannibal!

Thanks for letting me take you in gest; I’ll ketchup with you later.

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