When I slept in a chicken coop, I knew I was down on my cluck.
When I went to the French poultry farm, it was a mess! The poulet everywhere.
Killing a rooster is a cock-a-maiming idea. You’d have to be hensane. Something a bad egg would do.
When the President of the Chickens commands the hens to increase output, it’s an eggs excretive order.
Car pouleting is for chickens.
At the United Nations Conference on Poultry in Pecking, China, several accords were discussed, including a complicated capon-trade system. But as the cluck was winding down on the agreement, many nations cried fowl, arguing that capon-trade would only lead to more hen-some profits for agribusinesses, and real progress would be nothing but chicken feed. In order to lay down their yolks, developing nations staged a coop! Their leader made a speech, saying “When all people, white and dark, meat, there is hope.” This democratic gesture inspired everyone, even nations whose broil kings were in attendance. But the cynical members of the global press downplayed the developments, just drank a lot of Wild Turkey and got totally basted. #classicpun-011026
I saw a rooster with a vagina, so I killed and ate it. No herm, no fowl.
Currently, I raise chickens on golf courses. But maybe I can par lay that into something bigger?
How does a magician insult a chicken? A: Slight of hen.
This photo of a chicken nibbling my butt has an unusual ass-pecked ratio.