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This guy is on a rooftop about to jump off. His wife has left him, he has lost his job and he owes thousands of pounds to the bank. Just as he finishes his prayers and closes his eyes, ready to jump, Father Christmas taps him on the shoulder.

“Are you OK?” asks Father Christmas.

The man explains why he is so miserable and gets ready to jump. “Stop!” shouts Father Christmas. “I will grant you three wishes on the understanding that you will do me a favor.”

“Would you?” the man replies. “That would be wonderful! Thank you, thank you!”

Father Christmas grants him the three wishes :
1. You shall go home in 1 hour and your wife will be dressed in her sexy underwear, begging for forgiveness and longing for your return, she will have no recollection of her new boyfriend.
2. You shall go into work tomorrow, sit at your desk and continue with your work. Your salary will have increased by 50%. Also, nobody will have any recollection of your sacking.
3. You shall go to your bank and you will be in credit, you will have no outstanding bills.

“Oh thank you, thank you!” says the man. “What is it that I can do for you?”

Father Christmas tells the man to drop his pants and bend over. After a quite brutal rogering, Father Christmas asks the man how old he is.

“Thirty six,” replies the man.

“You’re a bit old to believe in Father Christmas!!” laughs the jolly, fat bastard.

Q: Why aren’t there any famous skeletons?
A: They’re a bunch of no bodies.

‘Twas the night before Christmas when all through the house
I searched for the tools to hand to my spouse.
Instructions were studied and we were inspired,
in hopes we could manage “Some Assembly Required.”

The children were quiet (not asleep) in their beds,
while Dad and I faced the evening with dread:
a kitchen, two bikes, Barbie’s town house to boot!
And, thanks to Grandpa, a train with a toot!

We opened the boxes, my heart skipped a beat
- let no parts be missing or parts incomplete!
“Too late for last-minute returns or replacement;
if we can’t get it right, it goes in the basement!”

When what to my worrying eyes should appear
but 50 sheets of directions, concise, but not clear.
With each part numbered and every slot named,
so if we failed, only we could be blamed.

More rapid than eagles the parts then fell out,
all over the carpet they were scattered about.
“Now bolt it! Now twist it! Attach it right there!
Slide on the seats, and staple the stair!”

“Hammer the shelves, and nail to the stand.”
“Honey,” said hubby, “you just glued my hand.”
And then in a twinkling, I knew for a fact
that all the toy dealers had indeed made a pact

To keep parents busy all Christmas Eve night
with “assembly required” till morning’s first light.
We spoke not a word, but kept bent at our work,
till our eyes, they went bleary; our fingers all hurt.

The coffee went cold and the night, it wore thin
before we attached the last rod and last pin.
Then laying the tools away in the chest,
we fell into bed for a well-deserved rest.

But I said to my husband just before I passed out,
“This will be the best Christmas, without any doubt.
Tomorrow we’ll cheer, let the holiday ring,
and not have to run to the store for a thing!

We did it! We did it! The toys are all set
for the perfect, most perfect, Christmas, I bet!”
Then off to dreamland and sweet repose
I gratefully went, though I suppose
there’s something to say for those self-deluded…
I’d forgotten that BATTERIES are never included!

Q: What did Rudolph want for Christmas?
A: A play sleightion 2.

Q: What’s a mummy’s favorite music?
A: Wrap Music!



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