The snooker hall

Frank was a keen snooker player, but one night down at the club, there was no-one for him to play, so he decided to have a couple of drinks and go home.

While he was quietly drinking, a beautiful woman came in and sat down beside him. Before long, they'd hit it off in a big way. They wound up a little while later, spending better part of the night together after some pretty steamy sex, but he was adamant, he had to leave.

"What are you going to tell your wife?" she asked.

"The truth," he replied. "Now where did I put that chalk?"

"Chalk?" she asked. "But you didn't play."

"Aha!" he said, with a mischievous grin.

Back at home, he quietly entered the house, but his wife was already waiting for him.

"And where d'you think you've been?" she demanded.

"Well, the truth is, I met this beautiful woman and we spent all night having sex."

"Don't lie to me," she said, angrily. "I can see the chalk on your trousers. You've been down that bloody club again playing snooker."

The foul?

The following is taken from the original text by Bob Monkhouse.

A Sunday League team are desperate for players, so desperate in fact that one Sunday they are forced to play a chicken. Rather surprisingly the chicken has a brilliant first half. One minute it's clearing off its own line, the next threading the perfect through ball, the next putting in a perfect cross.

At half time all its team mates are very pleased and everyone runs back onto the pitch for the second half. On the way the ref starts chatting to the chicken.

"Great first half mate, you must be really fit."

"Thanks" replied the chicken, "I try to keep myself fit but it's difficult finding the time so I do an hour in the gym each morning before work".

"What do you do then?" asks the ref.

"I'm a chartered accountant" replies the chicken. At which point the ref immediately brandishes the red card and sends the chicken off. The bemused teammates gather round the ref and start complaining.

"Sorry lads", says the ref, "I had no choice............."

".....it's professional fowl."

6:30 or 6:45

Four guys who worked together always golfed as a group at 7:00 a.m. on Sunday. Unfortunately, one of them got transferred out of town and they were talking about trying to fill out the foursome.

A woman standing near the tee said, "Hey, I like to golf, can I join the group?"

They were hesitant, but said she could come once to try it and they could see what they thought. They all agreed and she said, "Good, I'll be there at 6:30 or 6:45."

She showed up right at 6:30, and wound up setting a course record with a 7-under par round. The guys went nuts and everyone in the clubhouse congratulated her.

Meanwhile, she was fun and pleasant the entire round. The guys happily invited her back the next week and she said "Sure, I'll be here at 6:30 or 6:45."

Again, she showed up at 6:30 Sunday morning. Only this time, she played left-handed, and matched her 7-under par score of the previous week. By now the guys were totally amazed, and they asked her to join the group for keeps.

They had a beer after their round, and one of the guys asked her, "How do you decide if you're going to golf right-handed or left-handed?"

She said, "That's easy. Before I leave for the golf course, I pull the covers off my husband, who sleeps in the nude. If his member is pointing to the right, I golf right-handed; if it's pointed to the left, I golf left-handed."

One of the guys asked, "What if it's pointed straight up?"

She said,"Then I'll be here at 6:45."