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This weekend saw me sitting in a pub with some friends hypothesising the etymology of the “why did the chicken cross the road” joke. There was a group of us, all men, and we had, before this particular conversation, been discussing proper men’s topics like sport and women. I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I am in any way ponsey and not a propper man, o no, it was just that somehow the conversation had temporarily strayed from sports and women on to the etymology of the “why did the chicken cross the road joke”. We would of course get back on to sport and women in due course, but we decided it would be OK to discuss the etymology of the “Why did the chicken cross the road” joke, just for a little while, it wouldn’t compromise our statuses as red blooded males.
An Internet search yielded the website whydidthechickencrosstheroad.com which, although not offering any information regarding the joke’s provenance, did nevertheless prove to be an interesting find. The website boasts an impressive collection of chicken jokes; impressive in terms of volume that is, not necessarily quality. The jokes are sorted into various categories, the first of which being “adult chicken jokes”. How could we not click that link? What red blooded male when offered the opportunity to read an adult chicken joke wouldn’t say yes? Exactly. And red blooded males is most definitely what we are.
Upon clicking the link we were presented with a disclaimer which warned us that these adult chicken jokes were of an adult nature; presumably these adult chicken jokes were also of a chicken nature—just hazarding a guess. We were prompted to click a button to confirm that we were aged eighteen or over. We clicked to confirm that we were and waited in anticipation for the page to load. If ever there was a reason for the pub to have free wifi, this was surely it.
We sat further forward in our seats, leaning in conspiratorially, testosterone levels rising at the prospect of what we were about to read. We tentatively glanced around the pub to check that there were no minors who might unwittingly overhear what was about to be read. None of us wanted to be responsible for giving a child their first sex education lesson courtesy of an adult orientated chicken website. That’s the very kind of thing I’ve been determined to avoid all my life, and so far I’d managed to avoid it pretty successfully, and I was keen to keep it that way.
The page loaded. In contrast with all the other categories—the celebrity chicken jokes, historical chicken jokes, religious chicken jokes, political chicken jokes—which all have a surprisingly expansive selection, the adult section only contains two jokes. This seems to suggest that adult chicken jokes are a bit of a niche market, whereas there is a lot more of a demand for political or religious chicken jokes. But surely there must be a demand for adult chicken humour. There was a whole group of red blooded mails all sat in a pub, craning forward in anticipation for such a form of comedy. Maybe this genre is simply undiscovered, an as of yet untapped gold mine. Just remember that I was one of the first people to expose the genre. Just remember that when you’re sitting in front of the telly watching Michael Macintyre’s Adult Chicken Comedy Road Show.
I will now include these two jokes in this blog, saving you the need to visit the adult chicken website yourself and sparing you the possible embarrassment and incrimination that might be caused if your wife or girlfriend should find the site in your history. I know it’s only natural, you’re a red blooded male for goodness sake; but unfortunately your partner just won’t understand. Trust me.
Joke 1. The Chicken and the Egg.
A chicken and an egg are lying in bed. The chicken is leaning against the headboard smoking a cigarette with a satisfied smile on its face. The egg, looking a bit ticked off, grabs the sheet, rolls over and says … Well, I guess we finally answered “THAT question!”
Once upon a time there was a horse and a chicken who were good friends. They lived on a farmyard with lots of other animals and were very happy. One day, while they were playing near the farm’s pond, the horse stepped into a hole of quicksand. The horse rapidly sank and was yelling for his friend, the chicken, to save him. The chicken thought for a minute, then ran back to the farmhouse, and jumped into the farmer’s 735csi BMW. Luckily, the keys were in the ignition, and the chicken managed to start the car, and put it in gear. It raced over to the sinkhole, where the horse had almost disappeared by now. The smart chicken tied a rope around the back of the BMW and threw the other end around the front legs of the horse. The chicken hopped back in the driver’s seat and stepped on the gas. Ever so slowly, the horse eased out of the quicksand and jumped to safety. The horse, still on shaky legs, stuttered: “You just saved my life. Thank you!” The chicken just said, “Don’t mention it – That’s what friends are for!!” They returned the BMW and went out to dinner together in the barn yard.
A few days later, the horse got up from a good night’s rest, and heard some muffled cries for help coming from the backyard. The horse followed the sounds and came upon a terrible scene. There was his best friend, the chicken, stuck in a hole of quicksand! The sand was already up to its neck-feathers and the cries for help had almost stopped. The horse took a quick look around: No rope in sight And the farmer had gone to town with his BMW. What to do? The horse took a deep breath and spread his body and legs out over the hole. His member was dangling down right above the poor chicken. “Here, my friend, grab my thingie and I will pull you to safety!”. With its last bit of energy, the chicken grabbed a hold of the big horse-thingie and the horse straightened its body, pulling the chicken from its trap. With one big step, both were on solid ground and safe. The chicken slumped down on the ground, exhausted: “Now You saved my life, my friend!!” The horse just smiled. And what is the moral of this story? … If you’re hung like a horse, you don’t need a BMW to pick up chicks.
Obviously again we all burst into raucous laughter. My goodness, what fun. We were real men, telling adult jokes with rude words, like “Thingy”. I hope my family aren’t reading this; they probably don’t even think I know such naughty words as “thingy”.
The barman looked over at our group once again, inquisitive to know what we were laughing about. “I can’t believe that footballer missed that penalty, the bleeding … nincompoop!” I shouted. There, that would fool him, he would just think we were having a typical conversation that typical red blooded males would have about sport, laughing at a bleeding nincompoop of a footballer who’d missed a penalty. He really did look too innocent to hear an adult chicken joke, especially ones about horse’s thingies. It could scar him for life.
“Who’s that?” asked the barman, coming over to our table to collect our glasses.
“What?” I replied, trying to think of a footballer who might have missed a penalty who would deserve to be branded a bleeding nincompoop.
“Who are you talking about”? enquired the innocent barman.
“o, er, o, you mean that footballer who we were just talking about?” I asked, deliberately stalling for time while I desperately tried to think of a name.
“Yes” he immediately replied, somewhat thwarting my stalling efforts, the little swine.
“You mean the footballer who missed the penalty? The one I called a bleeding nincompoop”? Damn! That was two questions in one. I could have stalled for longer by asking them separately. I am losing my composure and thus my ability to stall effectively. Perhaps I should develop a slight stutter the next time I respond; but he’d heard me talking fine before that, so that wouldn’t work. Why weren’t my friends helping me here? Surely one of them must know the name of a footballer who missed a penalty recently, someone who we could all laugh at and call a bleeding nincompoop and thus resolve this awkward situation? But no, I knew it wasn’t going to happen because none of my friends are actually true red blooded males, and they don’t really like sport. And I know this is going to come as a shock to you, but I’m not really a proper sports loving red blooded male either. I know, I lied to you because I was embarrassed that you might think I am a bit ponsey and not a real man for discussing the etymology of the “Why did the chicken cross the road” joke. I knew I’d get found out eventually. And I was being found out right now by a young barman intent on knowing which footballer I was referring to. There was nothing for it but to come clean.
“I don’t know. We weren’t really talking about football,” I admitted, “we were checking out an adult chicken website. Here, look”. I thrust the phone towards him. This would teach him for being to inquisitive. He was about to get an unexpected education, a rude awakening. He was about to read words like “horse’s thingy” for the very first time.
“Get the man a stiff drink” I whispered to my friend, “he’s going to need one. We might have to give him … the talk”. But the barman didn’t read the adult chicken jokes. He looked very concerned and immediately withdrew.
I am obviously being sarcastic about the graphic nature of these two jokes. There is next to nothing adult about these adult chicken jokes, certainly nothing that warrants a disclaimer and a button you have to click to confirm you are eighteen or over. To be frank, I don’t really think the Adult Chicken genre has properly developed yet. For a start there only seems to be two jokes in existence, and those jokes are far too timid and safe to satiate people’s appetite for Adult Chicken humour; if indeed there is actually much of an appetite in need of being satiated. Something needs to be done, someone needs to stand up and be responsible for taking the Adult Chicken comedy movement to the next stage. I will be that man!
Well, I did the standing up part almost immediately after we informed the barman that we weren’t interested in sport but rather amused ourselves looking at adult chicken websites. A group of men had overheard our declaration and were looking at us a bit disconcertingly. They looked like proper red blooded males and didn’t seem to be too approving of our unusual pastime and so we promptly stood up and left.
So the standing up part had been accomplished, that was fairly easy; but what about the other bit: being the man responsible for the development of the adult chicken comedy movement? That might be a bit more tricky. I had stood up many times in my life before, but I don’t mind admitting to you that I had never once before been responsible for developing the adult chicken comedy movement and taking it into the 21st century. This was something new to me.
I have decided that the best way to advance the genre is to firstly add some more jokes. The genre isn’t really going to get much attention if it only boasts two jokes, especially jokes of such a mild nature.
At the bottom of the website there is an option that lets you submit your own chicken joke. It is time that someone answered to that noble calling and advanced the genre beyond the paltry (and yes that was a deliberate hilarious pun) couplet that so far exists. I am that man! I will compose another adult chicken joke, a proper adult chicken joke, with proper rude words and scenarios that will cause you to completely re-evaluate the way you have always thought of chickens. You will never be able to think of a chicken as a sweet innocent creature again. I will taint your outlook on chickens forever.
Someone last week asked me if there would be another David Eagle’s Pick and Mix. At the time I said yes, but perhaps now I will never get the time due to my commitments to furthering the Adult Chicken Comedy movement. I may even have to give up The Young’uns. I’ll keep you posted.
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