Stupid & Funny from Around the World

[Hakwa Nadro]

A jumbo jet is just coming into the Toronto Airport on its final approach. The pilot comes on the intercom, "This is your Captain. We're on our final descent into Toronto. I want to thank you for flying with us today and I hope you enjoy your stay in Toronto."
He forgets to switch off the intercom, and the whole plane can hear his conversation with his co-pilot.
The copilot says to the pilot, "Well, skipper, watcha gonna do in Toronto?"
"Well," says the skipper, "first I'm gonna check into the hotel and take a big crap . . . then I'm gonna take that new stewardess with the huge tits out for dinner . . . . then I'm gonna wine and dine her, take her back to my room and put it to her big time all night long!"
Everyone on the plane hears this and immediately begins looking up and down the isles, trying to get a look at the new stewardess.
Meanwhile the new stewardess is at the very back of the plane. She's so embarrassed that she tries to run to the cockpit to turn the intercom off. Halfway down the aisle, she trips over an old lady's bag and falls on her face. The old lady leans over and says: "No need to hurry, dear. He's gonna take a shit first."

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

An elderly couple is having their anniversary dinner together in a small restaurant. The old man leans over and asks his wife, “Do you remember the very first time we made love together over fifty years ago? We were behind this same restaurant and you were leaning against the fence and I made love to you from behind for a long time?”
“Oh yes dear,” she says, “I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Well ok dear,” he says, “How about if we take a stroll ’round there again and we can do it all over again for old time’s sake.”
“Oooooooh Henry, you devil, that sounds like a really good idea,” his wife answers.
At the same time there’s a police officer sitting at the next table listening to all this and having a chuckle to himself. He’s thinking, ‘I’ve got to go and see this… two oldsters shagging against a fence behind this restaurant. I should just keep an eye on them so they won’t get in trouble.’
So after they leave he follows them.
They walk very slowly, leaning on each other for some support, aided by their walking sticks. Finally after a while, they get to the back of the restaurant and make their way to the fence.
The old woman lifts her dress, takes her underwear down and the old man drops his pants. She turns around facing the fence and as she hangs on to the fence, the old man moves in. Suddenly they erupt into the most furious love making that the watching police officer has ever seen in his life. They are moving and jumping as if they were 18-years-old. They keep going for about forty minutes or more!
The old woman is yelling, “Ohhhh, God Henry!”
He’s hanging on to her hips for dear life. This is the most athletic love making imaginable. Finally, they both collapse panting on the floor.
The police officer is completely amazed. He’s thinking that he has learned something about life that he didn’t know until now. He also thinks about his own elderly parents and starts to wonder whether they also still make love like this.
After about an hour of lying down on the floor for recovering, the old man and his wife struggle to their feet and start putting their clothes back on.
The police officer, still watching thinks, ‘That was truly unbelievable, the old man was going like a train. I really need to ask him what his secret is.’
As the old couple passes, he says to them, “That was really something else, you must have been shagging for about forty minutes or more like you are 18 years old. How do you even manage it? You must have had a great life together. Is there some sort of secret I don’t know about?”
“No, there’s no secret,” the old man says, “except that fifty years ago that damn fence wasn’t electric.”

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

A blonde had just survived a massive car crash — her vehicle was completely totaled, yet somehow she emerged without a single scratch. When the state trooper arrived, she was standing by the wreck, calmly reapplying her lipstick like nothing had happened.
The officer took one look at the mangled car and said, “Ma’am, your car looks like it got stomped by an elephant! Are you sure you’re okay?”
The blonde smiled brightly. “Oh, I’m just fine, officer! Not a bruise on me.”
Still baffled, the trooper asked, “Can you tell me what happened?”
“Well,” she began, “I was just driving along, minding my own business, when all of a sudden this tree jumped right out in front of me! So I swerved to miss it — but then another tree popped up on the other side! I swerved again, and there was another tree… and another… and another! They were everywhere!”
The officer stared at her for a moment, trying not to laugh. Then he said, “Ma’am, there aren’t any trees on this road for miles.”
He nodded toward the wreck and added gently, “That was your air freshener swinging on the mirror.”

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

**The Butter Battle**
For years, a sweet old French lady ran a small shop in her village. Life was simple and peaceful—until a massive corporate supermarket opened its doors right across the street.

Wasting no time, the supermarket plastered a bold sign outside: **Butter – 10 euros.**

Not one to shy away from competition, the old lady promptly placed her own sign in the shop window: **Butter – 9 euros.**

The supermarket retaliated the next day: **Butter – 8 euros.**

Unfazed, the old lady updated her sign again: **Butter – 7 euros.**

This price war went on for days, each lowering their price further. Eventually, a worried customer stepped into the old lady’s shop and pointed at her sign.

“Madame,” he said, “you can’t keep this up! Those big supermarkets can afford it, but a small shop like yours? You’ll be ruined!”

The old lady leaned in with a sly smile and whispered,
“Monsieur, I don’t even sell butter.”

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

In a quiet convent, the 98-year-old Mother Superior lay on her deathbed, surrounded by her devoted nuns. Wanting to ease her final moments, they lovingly prepared a glass of warm milk and offered it to her. But with a weak shake of her head, she refused to drink.

One of the nuns, thinking quickly, carried the glass back to the kitchen. There, she remembered a bottle of Irish whiskey that had been gifted to the convent the previous Christmas. With a mischievous smile, she poured a generous splash into the milk before returning to Mother Superior’s bedside.

Gently, they held the glass to her lips again. This time, she took a small sip—then another—and before long, she had finished the entire drink, down to the last drop.

To the nuns’ amazement, her eyes brightened, and a spark of energy returned. Seeing their chance, they leaned in and asked eagerly, “Mother, before you leave us, please share your wisdom.”

Mother Superior propped herself up on one elbow, glanced around at her devoted sisters, and with a twinkle in her eye, declared:

“Whatever you do… *don’t sell that cow.

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

Two medical students were walking down the street when they noticed an elderly man moving stiffly, his legs wide apart with each slow step.

The first student nudged his friend and whispered, “That poor man must have Peltry Syndrome. People with that condition walk exactly like that.”

His friend shook his head. “No, I think it’s Zovitzki Syndrome. That slow, wide-legged gait is a textbook symptom.”

Unable to agree, they decided to ask the man himself.

“Excuse us, sir,” one student said politely. “We’re medical students, and we couldn’t help but notice your unusual walk. We were debating which syndrome might explain it. Would you mind telling us what you have?”

The old man smiled, amused. “I’ll tell you, but first, why don’t you share your diagnoses?”

The first student confidently declared, “I believe it’s Peltry Syndrome.”

The old man chuckled. “You thought—but you’re wrong.”

The second student stepped in. “Then it must be Zovitzki Syndrome.”

The old man let out a hearty laugh. “You thought—but you’re wrong, too.”

Intrigued, the students asked, “Alright then, sir, what do you actually have?”

Grinning, the old man replied, “Well… I thought it was just gas. But I was wrong, too!”

 

[Hakwa Nadro]

A high-flying London lawyer, dressed in a crisp designer suit and brimming with self-importance, was driving through the streets of Glasgow when he approached a stop sign. Rather than coming to a full halt, he merely slowed down, glanced both ways, and rolled through the intersection.

A Glasgow police officer, built like a rugby prop and with a no-nonsense attitude, saw the infraction and immediately pulled him over.

The officer approached the car, his expression calm but firm. "Licence and registration, please."

The lawyer smirked, already feeling superior. This will be fun, he thought.

“What for?” he asked, feigning innocence.

The officer remained unfazed. “Ye didnae come to a complete stop at the stop sign.”

The lawyer scoffed. “I slowed down. No one was coming.”

The officer folded his arms. “Aye, but ye still didnae stop. Licence and registration, please.”

The lawyer sighed dramatically. “What’s the difference?”

The Glasgow cop raised an eyebrow. “The difference is, ye huv tae come to a full stop. That’s the law. Now, licence and registration.”

The lawyer, feeling clever, leaned back in his seat. “Tell you what, officer. If you can show me the legal distinction between ‘slowing down’ and ‘stopping,’ I’ll hand over my licence and registration, and you can write me the ticket. But if you can’t, you let me go—no ticket.”

The cop tilted his head, considering the offer. Then, with a small nod, he said, “Sounds fair. Step out of the vehicle, sir.”

The lawyer, convinced he had won, smirked as he unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped onto the pavement.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the Glasgow cop pulled out his baton and began whacking the lawyer’s legs, arms, and shoulders with swift, controlled strikes.

The lawyer yelped and flailed. “STOP! STOP! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The cop didn’t break his rhythm. “Would ye like me tae stop or just slow doon?”

As the lawyer groaned on the pavement, the officer leaned over him with a smirk. “Aye, there’s yer difference.”

He stood up, dusted off his hands, and pulled out his notepad. “Now then—licence and registration, please.”