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Terry Hatcher decided to redecorate her bedroom. She wasn’t sure how many rolls of wallpaper she would need, but she knew that her friend Eva Longoria from next door had recently done the same job and the two rooms were identical in size. “Eva,” she said, “how many rolls of wallpaper did you buy for your bedroom'” “Ten,” said Eva. So Terry Hatcher bought the ten rolls of paper and did the job, but she had 2 rolls leftover. “Eva,” she said. “I bought ten rolls of wallpaper for the bedroom, but I’ve got 2 leftover!” “Yes,” said Eva. “So did I.”

Q: What`s the difference between David Beckham and a new Airfix model?

A: One`s a glueless kit…

Due to a glitch in the mundane/celestial time-space continuum, all three arrive at the Pearly Gates more or less simultaneously, even though their deaths have taken place decades apart.
The first to present himself to Saint Peter is Einstein. Saint Peter questions him. “You look like Einstein, but you have NO idea the lengths certain people will go to, to sneak into Heaven under false pretenses. Can you prove who you really are?”
Einstein ponders for a few seconds and asks, “Could I have a blackboard and some chalk?” Saint Peter complies with a snap of his fingers. The blackboard and chalk instantly appear. Einstein proceeds to describe with arcane mathematics and symbols his special theory of relativity.
Saint Peter is suitably impressed. “You really *are* Einstein! Welcome to heaven!”
The next to arrive is Picasso. Once again Saint Peter asks for his credentials. Picasso doesn`t hesitate. “Mind if I use that blackboard and chalk?” Saint Peter says, “Go ahead.”
Picasso erases Einstein`s scribbles and proceeds to sketch out a truly stunning mural. Bulls, satyrs, nude women: he captures their essences with but a few strokes of the chalk.
Saint Peter claps. “Surely you are the great artist you claim to be! Come on in!”
The last to arrive is David Beckham, Saint Peter scratches his head. “Einstein and Picasso both managed to prove their identity. How can you prove yours?”
Becks looks bewildered, “Who are Einstein and Picasso?”
Saint Peter sighs, “Come on in Beckham”

Paris Hilton goes up to the bar in a quiet rural town of Greeneville Tennessee . She gestures alluringly to the barman who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers. When he does so, she begins to gently caress his beard which is full and bushy.

“Are you the manager'” she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.

“Actually, no” he replies.

“Can you get him for me’ I need to speak to him.” she asks, running her hands up beyond his beard and into his hair.

“I’m afraid I can’t” breathes the barman – clearly aroused. “Is there anything I can do'”

“Yes there is. I need you to give him a message” she continues huskily, popping a couple of fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently. “Tell him that” she says “there is no toilet paper or hand soap in the ladies toilet”

David Beckham walks into a sperm donor bank, “I`d like to donate some sperm” he says to the receptionist.
“Certainly Sir” replies the receptionist, “have you donated before?”.
“Yes” replies Beckham “you should have my details on your computer”.
“Oh yes, I`ve found your details” says the receptionist “but I see you`re going to need help. Shall I call Posh Spice for you?”
“Why do I need help to donate sperm?” asks Beckham. The receptionist replies “Well, it says on your record that you`re a useless wanker…”

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