The joke police.

On the way to school today the third little traveler yelled out from the back seat.

“Mum Mum, I’ve got a joke for you”

The joke telling is progressing. We’ve moved from knock knock jokes, to riddles, to changing the words of songs, and then suddenly out of nowhere, we’ve arrived at the age where jokes have a beginning, a middle and an end.

This should be a good story right?

Not always.

There’s been a few times of late that I’ve found myself half way through one of the third travelers jokes (he’s our resident comic, you can find him here all week) and instead of my usual encouraging smile I’ve found myself shutting the joke down with parenting greats such as “that is not appropriate!” or “where did you hear that?”

I have become the joke police.

Nobody likes the joke police.

Sure, I giggled when he changed the words of “I’m a barbie girl, in a barbie world, I’m so fantastic, my boobs are plastic” – maybe I shouldn’t have, but I did –  but when he told the joke with what he considered to be an Indian accent I stopped him mid sentence.

“Why are you talking like that?”

“That’s how they talk”

“How who talks? Who told you that?”

“Atman, he’s Indian, he told me the joke – that’s how he said it”

“I’m not sure you can tell the joke like that darling. If we were Indian and that was our accent, maybe – but that would be your choice to tell it – and you’re not – so you can’t”.

The car was silent.

“What nationality can the people in my jokes be?”

Four sets of eyes waited for the answer.

“Do they have to be anything?” I asked trying to stall for time.

“Yes, because everyone is from somewhere”

“Okay – well make them Australian”

And that is how I came to hear the story of three Australian men shipwrecked on an island. They were helpless and I imagine a little alarmed when the local inhabitants of the island told them they were going to eat them. There was only one way out. The locals would let them go if they could put ten pieces of fruit up their bum without changing their expression.

No that wasn’t a typo.

“Are you sure this joke is appropriate?”

“Yes! I promise, I promise!” said the third little traveler.

The first Australian was given apples, and began the task. One, two, three, four, five…his face winced in pain. He was gone, they threw him in the boiling pot and made him their first course.

The second Australian smiled as the locals passed him ten grapes – this was going to be easy. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight…a smile escaped from his lips, it was no use, he began to laugh uncontrollably.

The first Australian was waiting at the gates of heaven when the second Australian arrived. “I don’t get it – you only had two more left? They were only grapes? How hard could that have been?”

The second Australian smirked “I saw them walking in with the pineapples to use next”.

Even the joke police giggled at that one.

How about you? Heard anything risqué lately?

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