The Big Fat Joke Book

by Khushwant Singh

  Two rival authors met. One had just published a book. Said the other, ‘I read your book and thought it was great. Tell me, who wrote it for you?’

  The author replied, ‘I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Tell me, who read it for you?’

  A father was worried about his son’s ability to pass his English essay test. So he made him cram one on ‘My Best Friend’ which he was sure would be one of the choices. Instead of that the subject on the examination paper was ‘My Father’. Undaunted, the boy utilized his memorized text to his best advantage. His essay read: ‘I have many fathers. Ravi Prasad is my best father. He lives next door to us. He comes to visit us every day. My mother loves him very much. A father in need is a father indeed.’

  Two men who had recently emigrated to a foreign country were boasting about their skill in fooling others. ‘None can surpass me in this art,’ said Lehna Singh.

  ‘How is that?’ asked Banta Singh.

  ‘I have fooled the government,’ replied Lehna Singh. ‘I’ve come to this country on a return ticket and I am not going back,’ he added, with a twinkle in his eye.

  A gambler’s three-year-old son learnt to count upto thirteen. It went as follows: Ek, do, teen, chaar, paanch, chhey, saat, aath, nau, das, ghulam, begam, badshah.

  Diplomat: A person who thinks twice before saying nothing.

  Politician: Someone who shakes your hand before the elections—and your confidence afterwards.

  Husband: A person who is under the impression that he bosses the house when in reality he only houses the boss.

  Television: A chatter-box that presents programmes that give you a headache and then advertises a cure for it.

  Chaperon: An elderly woman who accompanies young women to ensure that they don’t commit any such mistake as she committed when she herself was young.

  An economist: Someone who thinks more about money than the people who have it.

  Childhood: When you make funny faces in the mirror.

  Middle age: When the mirror gets even.

  Epitaph on a rich man’ tomb: ‘I struggled with arithmetic all my life. As a child, I learned to add. As a young man, I was a master at multiplying. As an adult I never learned to subtract. And now my relatives will divide.’

  At a Christmas Carol Service number of officials were invited to read selected portions from the Scriptures. One portion—‘The treasures will be opened and the glories of God will be revealed’—was read as: ‘The trousers will be opened and the glories of God will be revealed’.

  A middle-aged woman went to see her doctor. ‘Well, what’s the trouble?’ he asked.

  ‘Doctor, it’s this terrible headache; shooting pains in my legs and high blood pressure.’

  ‘How old are you?’ asked the doctor.

  ‘I’ll be twenty-six on my next birthday.’

  ‘H’mm,’ said the doctor, busy writing, ‘loss of memory too.’

  Mr and Mrs Banta Singh’s two-year-old boy was bawling away loudly. Mrs Singh asked her husband why their son was being so difficult. ‘He wants to take a ride on a donkey,’ replied Banta.

  ‘Then why don’t you put him on your shoulders and go for a run?’

  A shopkeeper’s son had trouble with his eyes. He took the boy to an eye-specialist who operated on the boy and replaced his eyes with those donated by a minister.

  A few days after the operation, the doctor asked the father, ‘How’s your son doing?’

  ‘He is fine,’ replied the father, ‘but he keeps on gazing at a chair whenever he finds one.’

  Santa Singh and Banta Singh were always boasting of their parents’ achievements to each other.

  Santa Singh: ‘Have you heard of the Suez Canal?’

  Banta Singh: ‘Yes, I have.’

  Santa Singh: ‘Well, my father dug it.’

  Banta Singh: ‘That’s nothing. Have you heard of the Dead Sea?’

  Santa Singh: ‘Yes, I have.’

  Banta Singh: ‘Well, my father killed it.’

  A Sardarji went to a logic school to learn logic. ‘To begin with, I’ll explain logic to you with the help of an example,’ the Professor said.

  ‘Do you have a fish pond?’ asked the Professor.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sardarji.

  ‘This means you love fish,’ the Professor continued.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That is you love water.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Everybody drinks water, so you love everybody.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And if you love everybody, you love girls.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If you love girls, then you are a boy.’

  ‘Yes, I am a boy.’

  ‘And if you are a boy and you love girls, you are not homosexual.’

  ‘Yes, true, I am not a homosexual,’ said Sardarji.

  ‘So this is the logical relationship between a fish pond and a homosexual,’ the Professor ended.

  That night Sardarji could not sleep well and wondered about the logical relationship between a fish pond and a homosexual. Next day, on his way to the logic school, he met a friend who enquired about his first day at logic school. Sardarji said proudly, ‘I’ll explain logic to you with the help of an example.’

  ‘Do you have a fish pond?’ asked Sardarji.

  ‘No,’ his friend replied.

  ‘Then you are a homosexual,’ Sardarji concluded.

  A man set down three pieces of luggage before the Indian Airlines check-in counter at the Santa Cruz Airport, Bombay. ‘I want the brown bag to go to Delhi, the black one to Calcutta,’ he said. ‘And keep the third bag here till I come back next week and pick it up.’

  The airline official blinked. A supervisor standing behind the check-in clerk overheard the passenger’s request and came up. ‘I am sorry, but we are not the post office,’ the supervisor said, ‘we can’t do that.’

  ‘Why not?’ the irate passenger said, voice: ‘That’s what you did the last time!’

  In the Garden of Eden, Adam asked God, ‘Why did you make Eve so beautiful?’

  ‘To attract your attention.’

  ‘Why did you give her such a winsome personality?’

  ‘So that you would love her.’

  Adam thought about this for a while.

  ‘Why, then did you make her so dumb?’

  ‘So that she would love you!’

  A policeman bitten by a dog came for treatment to the Safdarjang Hospital. He asked the pharmacist, ‘Arey bhai! Kuttey katne kee davaa dena—brother, give me medicine for dog bite.’

  The pharmacist asked him, ‘Santree jee! Aap ko bhee kuttey nay kaat liya—how did a dog bite a policeman?’

  The constable replied, ‘To tell you the truth, I was not wearing my uniform at the time.’

  Mrs Banta knitted a sweater and sent it to her husband by parcel post. With it she sent the following note: ‘I have removed the buttons as they are too heavy and would add to the price of postage. You will find them in the right hand pocket of the sweater.’

  Santa and Banta got jobs in Dubai. They also found accommodation in a high-rise building: Santa on the ground floor, Banta on the twenty-fifth. One day when the lift was not working, Banta invited Santa for dinner in his twenty-fifth floor flat. Poor Santa trudged up the twenty-five floors only to find Banta’s flat locked and a big board on the door which read: ‘How did you enjoy your dinner?’

  Not to be outdone, Santa wrote under the board, ‘Sorry, I could not make it.’

  Mrs Banta shouted at her servant: ‘Oi bewakoof, this egg is ice cold. Did you boil it in iced water?’

  A young man was ogling at a middle-aged lady. She got angry and ticked him off. The young man pleaded, ‘Madam, you are exactly like my mother.’

  ‘That is not possible,’ retorted the lady angrily. ‘I happen to be a married woman.’

  Banta complained to a friend, ‘My wife never agrees with anything: I say, and we have been married six years.’

  Mrs Banta interven
ed, ‘Not six; we have been married for seven years!’

  Teacher: ‘What is the scientific formula for water?’

  Bright pupil: ‘H.I.J.K.L.M.N.O.’

  Teacher: ‘Nonsense! How did you arrive at that?

  Bright pupil: ‘Auntie, it is H to O (H2O)!’

  An unmarried girl prayed, ‘Hey Bhagwan, I never asked you for anything. But please grant my mother a son-in-law.’

  Bhagwan heard the girl’s prayer. Her sister found a husband!

  A man rang up a bookstore and said, ‘Please send me all the books you have by Khushwant Singh. Also send me something to read.’

  The traditional blessing Satputri hoven (may you be the mother of seven) had a bizarre denouement: a young lady with her face hidden behind her veil touched the feet of an older woman to seek her blessing. ‘Satputri hoven,’ said the old woman.

  The blessing-seeker uncovered her face and retorted, ‘And what do you expect me to do to my eighth? Poison him?’

  An old bishop in the nation’s capital was sick of the social and embassy parties he was expected to attend every other afternoon. At one of them he entered wearily, glanced sourly at the over-familiar cast of characters and sank into the nearest chair. The hostess coyly said, ‘A spot of tea, Bishop?’

  ‘No tea,’ growled the bishop.

  ‘Coffee, Bishop?’

  ‘No coffee.’

  An understanding woman, she whispered in his ear, ‘Scotch and water, Bishop?’

  Said the bishop, brightening, ‘No water!’

  A young couple moved recently into the neighbourhood. Every morning, the Mukherjees watched the young woman kiss her husband goodbye as he left for the day.

  One day, looking enviously across the fence, Mrs Mukherjee asked her husband: ‘Don’t you ever feel like doing that?’ Her husband replied hesitatingly: ‘Uh! I sure do, but I don’t know how the young man will react.’

  Doctor: ‘Considering the weak state of your eyes, I would suggest it would be good for you to gaze into empty space.’

  Patient: ‘Thank you, Doc. I’ll keep looking into my wallet.’

  Bal Thackeray, while visiting the largest government hospital in Bombay, asked a houseman what he was doing.

  ‘Administering local anaesthetic,’ said the surgeon.

  ‘Shabash,’ exclaimed the Shiv Sena supremo, ‘you see, we certainly don’t need those non-local anaesthetics in Maharashtra any more!’

  Sardar Banta Singh arrived at the Indira Gandhi International Airport with his wife and four children, and checked in to catch their flight to Abu Dhabi where he had been promised a good job. While waiting for the flight to be called, Banta Singh looked round the departure lounge and saw a machine full of coloured bulbs. On it flashed a panel stating: Insert 10-paise coin and learn the truth.

  Banta inserted a 10-paise coin. The machine made a whirring sound and out came a ticket. It read: Your name is Sardar Banta Singh. You are waiting to catch a flight to Abu Dhabi.

  Banta Singh was very excited and beckoned to his family. Mrs Banta inserted a 10-paise coin. The machine again made a whirring noise and out came another ticket reading: Your name is Sardarni Banta Singh and you are waiting to catch your flight to Abu Dhabi.

  In turn the children put in 10-paise coins and got the same answer. After they had finished, Banta Singh thought he would try the machine one last time. He inserted a coin. The machine whirred and out came another ticket reading: Your name is Sardar Banta Singh and you have just missed your flight to Abu Dhabi!

  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes stories, was convinced that the dead could communicate with the living. Once, shortly after the death of a fellow writer, he was asked if he had heard from the deceased. He admitted that he had not.

  ‘Are you convinced now,’ continued his questioner, ‘that spiritualism is a fake?’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Doyle, ‘I hadn’t expected him to contact me. We weren’t on speaking terms when he died.’

  It was the Irish chess championship and the two Irish grandmasters were sitting with their heads bent over the board, contemplating their strategies. Radio, television and the newspapers waited with bated breath for the next move. Hours went by and there was no sign of anything happening. Then one of the grandmasters looked up and said, ‘Oh, is it my move?’

  Passengers were scrambling out of a crowded train when a female voice suddenly brought everything to a halt. ‘Just a minute,’ she called out, ‘let me take off my clothes.’ Everyone turned around expectantly, only to see an elderly washerwoman drag out a bundle of clothes from under her seat.

  The three stages of sickness:

  Ill

  Pill

  Bill

  Sometimes there is a fourth:

  Will

  First man: ‘Call me a doctor—call me a doctor!’

  Second man: ‘What’s the matter? Are you sick?’

  First man: ‘No, I’ve just graduated from medical school!’

  Three persons—an American, an Englishman and a Sardarji were convicted of murder; but they were given a choice—to die by hanging, electric chair or an AIDS injection.

  The Englishman opted for the first, and died. The American said he did not want to die like the Englishman with his tongue sticking out. He opted for the electric chair, and died. The Sardarji opted for the AIDS injection, so his trousers were pulled down, and he was given a big dose of the AIDS virus in his bottom.

  Soon after, the Sardarji was found jumping about, singing and laughing. On being asked what he was so happy about, the Sardarji replied, ‘You people thought you were very clever giving me that injection but you did not realize that I was wearing a condom at the time!’

  An Englishman, a Frenchman and a Russian were arguing about the nationality of Adam and Eve.

  ‘They must have been English,’ declared the Englishman. Only a gentleman would share his last apple with a woman.’

  ‘They were undoubtedly French,’ said the Frenchman. ‘Who else could seduce a woman so easily?’

  ‘I think they were Russians,’ said the Russian. ‘After all, who else could walk stark naked, feed on one apple between the two of them and think they were in Paradise?’

  The following is a true story: Mr S.N. Talukdar, the Director of the R&D Institute of the ONGC, and Dr V.V. Sastri, the Additional Director, were often at loggerheads as is normally the case with geologists. Mr Talukdar, son of a former ICS official in the Raj, had a fetish about neatness and enforced it in the Institute with a strong hand. One morning during his rounds through the Institute, Mr Talukdar peeped into Dr Sastri’s office. Dr Sastri was not in his office at that time and Mr Talukdar observed that the room was extremely messy. He left a note saying: ‘A cluttered table represents a cluttered mind,’ and walked out.

  Sometime later, Dr Sastri came back to his office and hit the roof on reading Mr Talukdar’s note. He stormed into his superior’s office to settle scores. Fortunately for him, Mr Talukdar was not in his office. That helped him to cool off.

  Later in the day, when Mr Talukdar entered his office, he found the following note waiting for him on his neat table: ‘If a cluttered table represents a cluttered mind, what does an empty table represent?’

  Democracy: Where it’s your vote that counts.

  Feudalism: Where it’s your count that votes.

  A pastor phoned the municipal office to ask that a dead mule be removed from the front of the church. Said the young clerk who took the call, ‘I thought you clergymen took care of the dead.’

  ‘We do,’ answered the pastor, ‘but first we get in touch with their relatives!’

  A bus traveller in Bombay noted lady passengers buying tickets and saying, ‘Kalbadevi,’ ‘Prabahadevi,’ and the like. When the conductor approached him for a ticket, he said, ‘Amirchand.’

  Before his death, Stalin had given two envelopes to Khrushchev, which he was asked to open in times of emergency. For the first six years, everything went smoothly. Bu
t when Khrushchev faced problems he opened the first envelope. It read, ‘Now begin to criticize me for every wrong in the state.’ The trick proved successful.

  Then for the next five years Khrushchev had no problems. But when he began to face problems again, he opened the second envelope. It read, ‘Now it is time for you to prepare two similar envelopes and retire.’

  During the selections for the school football team, the coach gave the players the option of selecting their own playing positions. The players made up their minds and the coach began to ask them about their playing positions. The conversation went as follows:

  Coach: ‘Banerjee?’

  Banerjee: ‘Centre Forward, sir.’

  Coach: ‘Kumar?’

  Kumar: ‘Right Back, sir.’

  Coach: ‘What about you, Singh?’

  Singh: ‘There is a slight problem.’

  Coach: ‘What?’

  Singh: ‘My friends are wicked, they want me to play Left Out, sir.’

  Coach: ‘So, what’s the problem?’

  Singh: ‘How can I play leftout? Won’t I have to play outside the field, sir?’

  At a Miss India contest, a gentleman congratulated Sunil Gavaskar, saying, ‘Indian cricket really owes a debt of gratitude to you for producing two such fine cricketers—Tendulkar and Kambli.’ Hearing this, the Little Master shot back, ‘You must be mistaken; I played no part in producing them. I have never been near either of their mothers.’

  Why did the little pony lose his voice?

  Because he was a litle hoarse.

  What kind of profits do fishermen make?

  Net profits.

  What is the language of chickens called?

  Fowl language.

  What happened to the cow that could not give milk?

  It was an udder failure.

  What did the clumsy optician do at a party?

  He made a spectacle of himself.

  Why is a cross-eyed teacher not successful in class?

  Because she can’t control her pupils.

  Ajanta was a fine Botany student and good at practicals. One day in the lab, her teacher inspected her work. Very pleased at her dissection of a flower, the teacher called out to the other students, ‘Come here and see Ajanta’s ovary; it is so beautiful.’