I’ve hired a circus clown for my funeral.
Not for any of that celebrate my life bullshit, just to sit silently at the back to freak my family out.
Let’s face facts, we all secretly suspected civilisation was just a phase.
I’ve never read Catcher In The Rye, mostly because I can’t stand cereals or baseball.
I love you just the way you are.
Though I do have a few suggestions.
I am NOT a grammar Nazi!
I’m alt-write.
Wife: I’m sorry I had sex with your best friend.
Me: With Harrison? How could you!?
Harrison: woof *wags tail innocently*
Wife: No, your other best friend!
Me: *looks accusingly at my X-Box*
I’ve become totally immune to clickbait and YOU WON’T BELIEVE HOW I DID IT.
I could never be a serial killer. There’s far too much cleaning.
I feel like my heart’s been ripped out and my soul eaten by a herd of wild cats whenever anyone accuses me of being overly dramatic.
The human mind is capable of things you can’t even imagine.
Which is a bit of a design flaw really.
Her: could things get any worse?
Me: *adds raisins* there you go.
When my wife told me to stop pretending to be a flamingo, I just had to put my foot down.
The trick is to leave enough details online so that a determined mysterious rich uncle can find you but not enough so random murderers can.
Could a murderer do THIS?
*lawyer points to defendant doing cool tap dance*
I remind the jury that only guilty feet have got no rhythm.
Spider bucket list:
1. Eat flies
2. Don’t get squashed by a crazy screaming lady when all I’m doing is eating flies
3. Meet Peter Parker