My word neighbour can up to me and said, "you know the difference between a dead prostitute and a Rolls Royce?", I said, "no I don't", and he said, "well I don't have a Rolls Royce in my garage".

Trick question. It's the perfect time to take sides because no one's paying attention. Bring Tupperware.

If your name’s on it, you’re in forever.

WHY THE DENTIST SAY SHE HAD "BAT" TEETH? Because they come out at night

It's the neigh-v

“Pick a cod, any cod.”

YOOO MAMA, Allow me to present an intriguing anecdote regarding the esteemed figure of your mother. Upon a most ceremonious introduction to a gathering of distinguished guests, she, with a flair most unexpected, announced with grandiose aplomb, ‘My name Jeff.’ The room, filled with curiosity and restrained amusement, paused in collective wonder, pondering whether this utterance was but an enigmatic declaration of self, a slip of tongue, or an enigmatic riddle of the modern age. Nonetheless, as the conversation progressed, it became ever so clear that the true identity of ‘Jeff’ remained an impenetrable mystery, with the only certainty being that her name was, in fact, not Jeff. Alas, the name of ‘Jeff’ persisted as a legendary meme, a testament to her unparalleled wit, or perhaps a symbol of the eternal absurdity inherent in all things.

Yo mama..... Pray, allow me to recount a most peculiar instance regarding your maternal figure. She, in her esteemed yet rather languorous pace, ventured forth to partake in the annual race of the gastropod kind—commonly known as the snail race. Alas, despite her earnest efforts, she found herself not merely trailing behind the competitors but languishing in a most ignominious third place, far outpaced by both a humble stone and a most unassuming oak. One might surmise that even time itself had grown weary of her sluggish advance, for as she inquired of the oak as to the path toward victory, the stone, ever the pragmatist, imparted that the finish line was yet a mere ten minutes distant. Thus, the noble snail, in a fit of unexpected repose, granted her the mere semblance of progress, though her fate remained bound by the weight of her own tempo, destined to await the snail’s subsequent nap.

Yo mama is so extravagantly, ridiculously, obscenely wealthy that when she decided she wanted a better view from her mansion, she didn’t just renovate—she commissioned NASA, SpaceX, and a team of intergalactic architects to realign the constellations so Orion’s Belt would match her diamond collection. When she takes a vacation, she doesn’t book a five-star resort—she *buys* the entire island, renames it after herself, and hires the ocean to adjust the tide to her mood. In fact, she’s so rich that when she drops a penny, Wall Street adjusts the global economy *just in case* it was on purpose!

spongebob daidaiaiaiaiaia