He crawled through the sands, certain that he was breathing his last breath, when suddenly, he saw a shiny object sticking out of the sand several yards ahead of him.

He crawled to the object, pulled it out of the sand, and discovered that he had a Manischewitz wine bottle.

It appeared that there may be a drop or two left in the bottle, so he unscrewed the top, and out popped a genie. BUT this was no ordinary Genie. This genie appeared to be a Chasidic Rabbi, complete with black alpaca coat, black hat, side curls, and tzitzis.

‘Vell kid,’ said the genie, ‘you know how it voiks. You got tree vishes.’

‘I’m not going to trust you,’ says the Arab. ‘I’m not going to trust a Jewish genie!’

‘Vott you got to lose? Looks ta me – you’re a goner anyvay!’

The Arab thought about this for a minute, and decided that the genie was right. ‘Okay, I wish I were in a lush oasis, with plentiful food and drink.’

P O O F * * * * * * * * *

The Arab found himself in the most beautiful oasis he had ever seen and he was surrounded with jugs of wine and platters of delicacies.

‘Okee-dokee kiddo, vat’s your second vish?’

‘My second wish is that I were rich beyond my wildest dreams.’

P O O F * * * * * * * * *

The Arab found himself surrounded by treasure chests filled with rare old coins and precious gems.

‘Okay kid, you got just vone more vish. Best you should make it a good vone!’

After thinking for a few minutes, the Arab says, ‘I wish that no matter where I go, beautiful women will always need and want me!’

P O O F * * * * * * * * *

He was turned into a tampon.

THE MORAL OF THE STORY:

If you’re an Arab doing business with a Jewish genie, there’s going to be a string attached.

Dad says, “Well son, let me try to explain it this way: I’m the breadwinner of the family, so let’s call me Capitalism. Your Mom, she’s the administrator of the money, so we’ll call her the Government. We’re here to take care of your needs, so we’ll call you the People. The nanny, we’ll consider her the Working Class. And your baby brother, we’ll call him the Future. Now, think about that and see if that makes sense.” So Little Johnny goes off to bed thinking about what Dad has said.

Later that night, he hears his baby brother crying, so he gets up to check on him. He finds that the baby has badly soiled his nappy.
So Johnny goes to his parents’ room and finds his mother sound asleep.
Not wanting to wake her, he goes to the nanny’s room. Finding the door locked, he peeks in the keyhole and sees his father in bed with the nanny.
He gives up and goes back to bed.

The next morning, Little Johnny says to his father, “Dad, I think I understand the concept of politics now.”

The father says, “Good, son, tell me in your own words what you think politics is all about”.

Johnny replies, “Well, while Capitalism is screwing the Working Class, the Government is sound asleep, the People are being ignored and the Future is in Deep Shit.”

“Sorry to bother you at this hour, Sir, but there is an emergency! I’ve just received word that the Durex factory in Washington has burned to the ground. It is estimated that the entire USA supply of condoms will be used up by the end of the week.”

Obama: “Oh damn! The economy will never be able to cope with all those unwanted babies. We’ll be ruined. We’ll have to ship some in from Mexico.”

Telephone voice says, “Bad idea… The Mexicans will have a field day with this one. We’ll be a laughing stock.. What about the UK ?”

Obama: “Okay, I’ll call Cameron and tell him we need five million condoms, ten inches long and three inches thick. That way, they’ll continue to respect us as Americans.”

Three days later, a delighted President Obama ran out to open the first of the 10,000 boxes that had just arrived. He found it full of condoms, 10 inches long and 3 inches thick, exactly as requested…. All colored with Union Jacks with small writing on each one:

MADE IN ENGLAND – SIZE: SMALL

She told him that her husband had developed a penchant for anal sex, and she was not sure that it was such a good idea.

“Do you enjoy it?” the doctor asked. “Actually, yes, I do” she said. ”Does it hurt you”, he asked? “No. I rather like it!” ”Well, then,” the doctor continued, “there’s no reason that you shouldn’t practice anal sex, if that’s what you like, so long as you take care not to get pregnant.”

The woman was mystified. “What? You can get pregnant from anal sex?”

“Of course”, the doctor replied. “Where do you think politicians come from?”

This year’s term was:

“Political Correctness.”

The winner wrote:

“Political correctness is a doctrine, fostered by a delusional, illogical minority, and rabidly promoted by an unscrupulous mainstream media, which holds forth the proposition that it is entirely possible to pick up a turd by the clean end.”

(This guy has nailed it.)

After a while, he finds himself in a very high class neighbourhood… big, stately residences, no pubs, no shops, no restaurants, and worst of all… NO PUBLIC TOILETS and a familiar ominous feeling on his bowels and a churning in his stomach.

He desperately has to piss, poo and throw up. He finds a narrow side street, with high walls surrounding the adjacent buildings and decides it’s ideal.

As he starts to lower his trousers he is tapped on the shoulder by a copper, who says, “Sorry, Sir, you simply cannot do that here, you know.” “I’m very sorry, officer,” replies the American, “but I really, really HAVE TO GO, and I just can’t find a public restroom.”

“Ah, yes,” said the Bobby…”Just follow me”. He leads him to a back “delivery alley”, then along a wall to a gate, which he opens. “In there”, points the Bobby. “Relieve yourself… anywhere you want.”

The fellow enters and finds himself in the most beautiful garden he has ever seen. Manicured grass lawns, statuary, fountains, sculptured hedges, and huge beds of gorgeous flowers, all in perfect bloom. He pisses against a statue, throws up all over the lawn and explosively shits diarrhoea into the fountain.

As he passes back out of the gate, he says to the Bobby “That was really decent of you… is that the famous British Hospitality?”

“No,” replied the Bobby, “that is the Russian Embassy.”

The Allergists voted to scratch it, but the Dermatologists advised not to make any rash moves.

The Gastroenterologists had a sort of a gut feeling about it, but the neurologists thought the Administration had a lot of nerve.

The Obstetricians felt they were all labouring under a misconception. Ophthalmologists considered the idea short-sighted.

Pathologists yelled, “Over my dead body!” while the Paediatricians said, “Oh, Grow up!”

The Psychiatrists thought the whole idea was madness, while the Radiologists could see right through it.

Surgeons decided to wash their hands of the whole thing. The ENT specialists wouldn’t hear of it.

The Plastic Surgeons said, “This puts a whole new face on the matter….”

The Podiatrists thought it was a step forward, but the Urologists were pissed off at the whole idea.

The Anaesthesiologists thought the whole idea was a gas, and the Cardiologists didn’t have the heart to say no.

In the end, the Proctologists won out, leaving the entire decision up to the arseholes in London.

After the cut, he asked about his bill, and the barber replied, ‘I cannot accept money from you, I’m doing community service this week.’ The florist was pleased and left the shop.

When the barber went to open his shop the next morning, there was a ‘thank you’ card and a dozen roses waiting for him at his door.

Later, a cop comes in for a haircut, and when he tries to pay his bill, the barber again replied, ‘I cannot accept money from you, I’m doing community service this week.’ The cop was happy and left the shop.

The next morning when the barber went to open up, there was a ‘thank you’ card and a dozen doughnuts waiting for him at his door.

Then a Member of Parliament came in for a haircut, and when he went to pay his bill, the barber again replied, ‘I can not accept money from you. I’m doing community service this week.’ The MP was very happy and left the shop.

The next morning, when the barber went to open up, there were a dozen MPs lined up waiting for a free haircut.

And that, my friends, illustrates the fundamental difference between the citizens of our country and the politicians who run it.

Both politicians and nappies need changing often, and for the same reason.