At Heathrow Airport in England. A 300-foot red carpet was stretched out to Air Force One and President Bush strode to a warm but dignified handshake from Queen Elizabeth II. They rode in a silver 1934 Bentley to the edge of central London where they boarded an open 17th century coach hitched to six magnificent white horses. As they rode toward Buckingham Palace, each looking to their side and waving to the thousands of cheering Britons lining the streets, all was going well.
This was indeed a glorious display of pageantry and dignity.
Suddenly the scene was shattered when the right rear horse let rip the most horrendous, earth-shattering, eye-smarting blast of flatulence, and the coach immediately filled with noxious fumes.
Uncomfortable, but maintaining control, the two dignitaries did their best to ignore the whole incident, but then the Queen decided that was a ridiculous manner with which to handle a most embarrassing situation.
She turned to Mr. Bush and explained, "Mr. President, please accept my regrets. I'm sure you understand that there are some things even a Queen cannot control."
George W., ever the Texas intellectual and gentleman, replied, "Your Majesty, please don't give the matter another thought. You know, if you hadn't said something I would have assumed it was one of the horses."
A nurse from England was on duty in the emergency department, when a punk rocker entered.
This young woman had purple hair styled into a mohawk, a variety of tattoos and strange clothing.
It was determined that the patient had acute appendicitis and was scheduled for immediate surgery.
When she was completely disrobed on the operating table, the staff found that her pubic hair had been dyed green and above it was a tattoo reading: 'keep off the grass.'
After the prep and the surgery, the surgeon added a small note to the dressing which said: "Sorry, had to mow the lawn."
Gordon Brown was lookin for a lady of the night. He found a girl in a local pub. He said: "I'm Prime minister of England, how much would it cost me to spend time with you ...?"
Her reply: "Mr prime minister, if you can get my skirt as high as my taxes, my pants as low as my wages, your dick as hard as the times we're living in and keep it rising like the price of petrol and screw me the way you have the pensioners - then it won't cost a fucking penny!"