In honour of Suldog’s recent foray into the world of hilarity, allow me to present you with THE WORST JOKE I KNOW.

It may also be THE BEST JOKE I KNOW.

…

(Pause for copious “ahem”-ing.)

…

There’s this guy. Let’s call him… George.

George’s life has structure. George does everything, everyday, the same way, at the same time.

He wakes up at 7:00. Showers at 7:05. Has breakfast at 7:30. Leaves for work at 8:00 am. Gets to work at 8:30. Has a coffee break at 10:30. Lunch at 12:30. Leaves at 5:00. Arrives at home at 5:30. And at 6:00, he’s in front of the television with a frozen dinner, ready to watch the news.

He likes this. It’s comforting. Structure helps him sleep at night.

So… one day he wakes up at 7:00. Showers at 7:05. Has breakfast at 7:30. Leaves for work at 8:00 am. Gets to work at 8:30. Has a coffee break at 10:30. Lunch at 12:30. Leaves at 5:00. Arrives at home at 5:30. And at 6:00, he’s in front of the television with a frozen dinner, ready to watch the news… when the phone rings.

Now, people that know George know not to call at 6:00. This is when he’s watching the news. So George is perturbed. He puts down his frozen dinner, goes to the phone, picks it up, and says, “Hello?”

“… I… can… talk…”

George says, “Huh? Hello? Who is this?”

Click. The phone goes dead.

George, confused, hangs up the phone and goes back to the frozen dinner and his beloved news.

But George is troubled. And when he goes to sleep that night, George doesn’t sleep well.

The next day, he wakes up at 7:05. Slightly groggy, he’s not in the shower until 7:15. Has to rush his breakfast and still leaves late at 8:10. Gets to work at 8:40. Apologises to his boss for his tardiness. But George tries to stick to his routine. Has his coffee break at 10:30. Lunch at 12:30. Leaves at 5:00. Arrives at home at 5:30. And at 6:00 he’s in front of the television with a frozen dinner, ready to watch the news, everything is right with the world… and the phone rings.

George puts down his frozen dinner, stomps over to the phone, picks it up, and says, “Hello?!”

“… I… can… talk…”

Georges says, “Hello? What do you-”

Click. The phone goes dead.

For two weeks, the phone calls continue. And for two weeks, George’s life begins to slowly, inexorably, unravel. He stops sleeping entirely. He is chronically late to work. He starts jumping at sudden noises. He develops a tremor in his left eye. Bright lights give him a migraine. Small children frighten him.

He tries… god, George tries to keep his structure… yet every night, at 6:00, sitting in front of the television with his frozen dinner, ready to watch the news… the phone will ring.

Eventually, George decides that he has had enough.

That morning, he gets out of bed at 7:00, bleary-eyed and twitching. He calls into work and says that he will not be in that day. And he sits down next to the phone, with a large bottle of whisky and drinks. And waits.

Finally, it is 6:00.

The phone rings.

George picks it up.

Says, “HELLO?!”

“… I… can… talk…”

“SO WHAT?! SO WHAT IF YOU CAN TALK?! EVERYONE CAN TALK! WHAT MAKES YOU SO SPECIAL?!?!”

“… I’m… a… cow…”

…

Thank you. Thank you. Please tip your waitress.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 4th, 2006 at 10:08 am and is filed under me. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.