Making my third blog posting a selection of jokes is probably not the best way to get myself taken seriously. However, before you move swiftly on to something more worthy let me clutch at your arm, subtly obstruct your escape route and test the limits of your courtesy by explaining why humour could be a factor in our struggle for understanding and acceptance.
It’s well-known that persecuted minorities have found fortitude, and even fought back, through humour: the Jews and the Irish are prime examples: ostensibly laughing at themselves but, at the same time, laughing at the World’s folly. Humour lightens the load, and makes one feel less alone – even if your ‘companions’ are no more than the imaginary characters in the joke.
There are undoubtedly ‘nice’ jokes and ‘nasty’ ones. The average paedo recognises something of himself (or herself) in the former, in the latter he recognises the negative stereotypes and myths which inform the popular popular discourse. Sometimes I suspect that a certain joke must have been written by paedo. Other times I know that it was written by a hater.
The following is an example of a nice joke:
I was walking home from the shops yesterday when this cute little girl came running out from her garden.
“Please mister, can you help shave my pussy?” she asked.
As luck would have it, I was just coming back from the chemists so I whipped out my Wilkinson Sword razor, pulled her pants down and gave her little motty a ‘number one’ all over.
“There you go sweet cheeks” I said. “What do you think?”
“It was nice, mishter… but Marmalade is shtill in the tree”.
In this joke the protagonist is portrayed as someone normal (he’s just coming back from the shops), as someone altruistic and ready to help a child in need. His cheery “There you go sweet cheeks” is affectionate and endearing. Equally the little girl’s enjoyment of his deed (“It was nice, mishter…”) may provoke a little glow of delight for many paedos.
All-in-all this joke portrays warmly and affectionately an intimate encounter between a little girl and a man (can one assume the man is a paedo from his readiness to shave the little girl? I think this uncertainty is part of the ‘poetry’ of this joke). Such a joke subtly undermines negative ideas about paedophiles current in the popular discourse.
If I quote the following jokes it is only in order to provide an example of a ‘nasty’ joke:
I was walking along a high cliff one day and saw a little boy, all alone. He was crying.
I asked him, “Son, what are you doing up here all alone?”
He replied, with tears in his eyes, “My mum’s down there at the bottom. She fell!”
“That’s terrible!” I said. “And your dad?”
“He’s down there right next to her. He tried to save her and he fell, too!”
“That’s awful!” I said. We shared a quiet moment there, together, looking out at the sky over that grand cliff.
And then, when he asked me why I was unbuckling my belt, I told him.
“Son, today just isn’t your day.”
The subtext to this joke is that paedophiles are cruel and lack compassion, that they prey on isolated children and are rapists. This joke draws on and reinforces negative ideas around paedophiles current in the popular discourse.
Other jokes are funny because they take ideas in the culture about sexuality and paedophilia and inflate them, but not too much – the humour arises out of a grain of truth which is still recognisable at its core:
When I worked at PC World, Gary Glitter asked me to wipe his computer’s memory.
It took me almost a whole box of tissues.
Any person with a sex-drive, decent broadband access and the wife and kids out at the supermarket will recognise a poetic truth at the core of such a joke. (And indeed I notice that this is the second time I’ve referred to poetry – a good joke, I believe, is a kind of poem – a rhythmic entity in which every word has to be justified according to its effect.)
A similar type of joke seems to me to be mocking the grotesque misconceptions popular (and not so ‘popular’) culture have concerning paedophilia.
Rolf Harris is set to appeal and will be tried again in front of a jury of children.
His lawyers are confident that he will get off.
The above joke could be interpreted as drawing on and mocking the idea that paedophiles are so libidinous and out-of-control that even whilst in court and on trial they would be ‘getting off’ at the sight of children.
Other jokes seem to be more philosophical statements which get their impact through voicing some hitherto unspeakable truth:
Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you are a paedophile, but you just haven’t met the right child yet?
Do you know what the number one cause of ‘pedophilia’ is? Sexy Kids!
Paedophiles definitely seem to like paedo jokes. I also have some straight friends who are not particularly paedo-sympathetic, but who have a nuanced conception of paedophilia. They too enjoy the occasional paedo joke.
However the real rabid haters, the ‘Lumpen Paedophobiat’, can’t bear them: to them paedophilia is not something to be joked about; for to joke about something is to humanise it, to make it available to thought, to subvert conventions and predigested thinking. Jokes surprise and shock by creating hair-pin bends in our thoughts and feelings; they depend on and create mental flexibility; jokes are a micro-version of the Roman Saturnalia – when slaves enjoyed a pretense of disrespect for their masters, and were exempted from punishment – a time for free speech.
The Paedophobiat wants to starve paedophilia of the oxygen of thought, they want it to be a simple thing free of nuance and it to be defined solely by the worst that can be said or imagined about it. Jokes and humour inject nuance into the discourse and make it part of society’s thinking process.
Anyway, after all that, here, finally, are the jokes. Some I find genuinely amusing, others are ‘groaners’.
I hope you’ll find at least one which tickles your fancy. And why not contribute your own favourtite paedo joke as a comment to this post?
After recent earthquakes in Italy, 10 priests who were having a meeting in a church when it collapsed on them found themselves at the Pearly Gates. St Peter addressed them. “If any of you have pedo tendancies then you can leave now, go to hell!” 9 of the priests turn and begin to walk away. St Peter calls them back, “Hey, take your deaf friend with you…”
. . .
My wife said to me, “I’ve just heard some great news, apparently the police have worked out who the local paedophile is and they are going to arrest him tonight.”
I said, “That’s brilliant news. Let’s celebrate by moving to Australia.”
. . .
Two paedophiles were walking down the street one day when they came across a pair of small lacey knickers on the ground.
The first one picks them up, smells them and goes, “Aahhh… A seven-year-old girl.”
The other grabs them from him and also takes a smell and goes, “No, no … Definitely an eight-year-old girl!”
The two men are taking turns smelling them and arguing. “An eight-year-old!”, “No, a seven-year-old!”, “Definitely an eight-year-old!” …. and so on.
The local priest is walking past as the two men argue and can’t help but ask them what the commotion is all about.
The first paedophile tells the priest, and asks him if he could sort out the argument, so the priest takes the knickers, has a good long sniff, and after pondering for a few moments he looks at the two men and says:
“Definitely an eight-year-old girl! ……… but not from my parish!”
. . .
I think we have to forgive Rolf Harris, simply because he’s such an amazing man.
For example on Animal Hospital I once saw him cure a young boy’s pet snake in under 2 minutes, and all he got the boy to do was stroke it under the blanket until it was sick.
. . .
You were a beautiful blond sitting across from me on the delayed 11.42 Manchester to London train (15/11/09), you had caught my eye on the platform laughing wearing a pink backpack and a gold headband. We exchanged glances several times and I was finding it hard not to stare, I wanted to talk to you and hoped we could swap details I just lost my nerve and before I knew it we’d arrived and you were disappearing into St Pancras Underground. I know it’s a long shot but if you see this please get in touch, I’d love it if we could meet up sometime.
PS I’ve got your colouring book, you left it on the train.
. . .
Why is Santa so jolly?
Because he knows where all the naughty little girls live.
. . .
Paedophile Pete is walking down the street and he runs into one of his buddies. His buddy says, “hey, Pete, was that your new girlfriend I saw you with the other day?”
Peter, looking somewhat embarrassed and shamed, says “yeah.”
His buddy says, “how old is she?”
Looking even more shame-faced, Pete replies, “nine.”
His buddy says, “isn’t that a little old for you?”.
Pete says, “yeah, but she’s got the body of a six year old!”
. . .
When I was a kid I thought it was a good idea to go to a Gary Glitter concert.
I am not sure what came over me.