Harry Jokes / Recent Jokes

A stupid man was struggling out of his house with a big table. His neighbor said to him, "Hello, Harry. Where are you going with that then?" And Harry replied, "I'm taking it to the store to have it measured for a new tablecloth."

Girlfriend in Tokyo writes:
'Dear Harry, you are gone six months and I am six
months gone. Shall I carry Harry or commit
hara-kiri?'

This Japanese tale proves the adage:' The road to
hell is paved with faulty contraception.'

Although he kept bachelor's hours, Harry quite piously demanded absolute fidelity from his wife. Almost every night he would leave her at home with the children, bidding her farewell with a cheery, "Good-night, mother of three."
Then one night she called back just as cheerfully, "Good-night, father of one."
Now Harry stays home.

Harry stepped out of his office building and bumped into a group of his advertising-agency friends.

"Join us for lunch, Harry boy?" asked one of them. "Sorry," was the answer. "I'm on the wagon."

A wife begins to get a little worried because her husband has not arrived home on time from his regular Saturday afternoon golf game. As the hours pass she becomes more and more concerned until at 8 p.m. the husband finally pulls into the driveway. "What happened?" says the wife. "You should have been home hours ago!" "Harry had a heart attack at the third hole," replied the husband. "Oh, that's terrible," says the wife. "I know," the husband answers. "All day long it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry..."

A wife begins to get a little worried because her husband has not arrived home on time from his regular Saturday afternoon golf game. As the hours pass she becomes more and more concerned until, at 8 p.m., the husband finally pulls into the driveway.
"What happened?" says the wife. "You should have been home hours ago!"
"Harry had a heart attack at the third hole," replied the husband.
"Oh, that's terrible," says the wife.
"I know," the husband answers. "All day long it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry..."

Mrs. Jones began to get nervous when dark fell and her husband hadn't returned from his regular Saturday golf game. Dinnertime came and went and she became more and more anxious, so when she heard his car pull in, she rushed out to the driveway. "Where've you been? I've been worried sick! she exclaimed.

"Harry had a heart attack on the third hole," her husband explained.

"Oh, no, That's terrible."

"You're telling me," moaned her husband. " All day long it was hit the ball, drag Harry, hit the ball, drag Harry..."