East German President Ulbricht wanted to know what the people really thought of him, so he lost his security detail, changed into anonymous workingmans clothes and struck up a conversation with a random worker in a coffee house.

After a while, he casually asked his new friend what he thought of Walter Ulbricht.

His friend puts a finger to his lips, and takes him onto a East Berlin bus, then onto a train to Leipzig, changes trains with Ulbricht at an anonymous country town, then takes a bus with him to a lonely spot on the Polish border, and then walks with him several miles into the forest.

He then turns around, looks for security agents and whispers ‘Actually, I dont mind him at all’.

The Japanese:

- I work 3 hours per day for myself, 3 hours per day - for the Emperor and 3 more hours - for Japan.

The Bulgarian:

- I work 3 hours for myself, Emperor - we don’t have, and why the hell do I have to work for Japan?!

- I work 3 hours per day for myself, 3 hours per day - for the Emperor and 3 more hours - for Japan.

The Bulgarian:

- I work 3 hours for myself, Emperor - we don’t have, and why the hell do I have to work for Japan?!

He says to the man, “how can you be so sure it won’t bite your arm off?”

He replies, “I’ve hypnotised it.”

“Hynoptised the shark? How on earth do you hypnotise a fish?”

“Well, it’s simple when you know how, Herr Bundeskanzler. Let me explain.” He removes the fingers from the water and releases the shark from its trance. The monster fish lashes the water furiously. Where did the meat go? After it’s calmed down, the hypnotist invites Kohl to stick his fingers in the tank. He does so, gingerly.

“Now, you must concentrate on the fish. It’s all about producing the right electrical field. Usually this is unconscious, but biofeedback research has shown it’s possible to control it..”

And Kohl concentrates…minutes go by…

and then, his eyes blink slowly, his cheeks bulge, his mouth begins to open and close rhythmically, and his arms begin to make slow swimming movements..

A happy man has
an american pay-check
a british mansion
a japanese wife and
a chinese cook

An unhappy man has
a chinese pay-check
a british cook
a japanese house and
an american wife

Gross, LOL!

An American travels to Spain, and after seeing the sights, he decides to see the “real” Spain, to get off the beaten track and be a real adventurer. So, he goes to some dusty provincial village with only one hotel, one restaurant and a bullfighting ring. After checking in, he walks over to the restaurant to get some dinner. Unfortunately, the man speaks no Spanish, and the waiter only the most rudimentary English. Confusion ensues with the menu, and finally the American just says “Bring me the special!”

A little later, a plate arrives with what appears to be two very large meatballs and some garnishes. The man doesn’t recognize them, but he figures that he’s on an adventure, so he digs in. And, he likes his dinner quite a lot, but can’t quite identify the kind of meat. So, on finishing, he calls the waiter over and, speaking slowly and loudly, in the customary fashion of those travelling beyond their linguistic abilities, asks what he just ate. The waiter explains: “Is, uh - ¿como se dice? - da tentacles of da koo… No, da tes-tee-cos - testicles! Yes, testicles of da bool from da bool fight today.”

The American’s first reaction is disgust, but after thinking about it for a moment, he concludes that if you eat some of the meat from cattle, you can’t really start complaining about eating the other parts. Besides, it tasted good!

So the next day, the American tourist returns to the same restaurant and tells the waiter to bring him the same thing as he had eaten the day before. Only this time, the balls of meat are much, much smaller. Confused, the American calls the waiter over to explain. And the waiter says, “Well, you know, da bool in da bool fight, you see, ‘e not always lose.”

LOL! I did not know that one yet.

A Belgian family wants to take their car with them on holiday in England, but their little girl is prone to seasickness, so they decide to make the shortest possible crossing, from Calais.

So they all pile into the car, and they drive, and they drive and they drive until eventually they see a sign saying “Pas de Calais”. So they shrug their shoulders in despair and go home.