I think it might need a contrived accent as well. 
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A few years ago, I was training my dog to play fetch by the local park, next to river Avon, in Chippenham. Even being half Labrador, my dog was always terrible at going in the water and bringing back the toy from playing fetch, but I wasnât giving up, so I had my treat bag and loads of patience.
This day, there was a cat on one of the branches of a tree that was over the river, and my dog, always interested in cats, was getting a bit distracted by it, which was somewhat annoying. To try to catch my dogâs attention, I threw the toy in the water, hoping for the splash to do the trick. At that very moment, the little kitten saw the splash, and interested in it, stumbled and fell in the water.
My dog, not surprisingly due to the keen interest in cats, threw himself in the water, chasing after the kitten. He caught the kitten in the water and started to swim back, so I shouted:
Donât stop retrieving! Hold on to that feline!
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This one has brought me much joy. Ignore the h8rs! I very much feel we have the moral high ground here.
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Although it is at the bottom of a deep, deep ravine.
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Mariana Trench deep 
But who cares?
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You might be surprised. The thing I love about this format is that itâs a joke where the punchline has been pre-written by someone else, and all you need to do is contrive a narrative that gets you to it. You can literally just look at song titles â say them out loud and play with the sounds of the words â until you find one which could be something else. At that point itâs little more than a matter of describing what that âsomething elseâ is. Iâd encourage everyone who enjoys reading them to have a go at writing them.
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Youâre probably familiar with the television show Strictly Come Dancing, which has been a success for many years. So successful has it been, indeed, that a number of spin-offs and specials have been produced including the acclaimed Children in Need charity fundraiser show broadcast in 2012, but that programme almost ran into disaster.
With period drama enjoying a resurgence the decision was made to give the Strictly special an 18th Century theme, which meant elaborate outfits all round. Dancer Anton Du Beke hit on an idea to make his performance stand out by basing his costume on the rather eccentric dress of Edward Wortley Montagu, about whom Horace Walpole had written in the 1750s. The most notable part of the ensemble was to be a version of Wortley Montaguâs famed iron wig, an astonishing creation made of metal curls and spirals. Unfortunately for Du Beke there was no time to find anyone with the experience to make a replica or the budget to pay for it, but a friend in the BBC art department had the idea of using lead instead of iron. It seemed a bizarre choice, but the artistâs local church was undergoing extensive roof repairs and they were sure that the vicar would loan out some material for a good cause, since it could be so easily reused. There were also several workers in the art and costume departments who could craft the softer metal, where iron would have posed a huge difficulty. Anton chose a song by The Shangri-Las and set to work crafting his dance routine while the artists hurried to complete the wig.
Du Beke, knowing that the wig was going to be quite heavy to wear while dancing, had been training with a weighted hat on his head. The actual wig, however, proved to be even heavier and more uncomfortable than expected. A number of solutions were attempted, but it wasnât until one of the costume designers suggested similar padding to that worn under knightsâ helmets that any progress was made. Even so, it wasnât enough. They tried all sorts of felted wool, but the formidable wig painfully crushed them all.
Despondent, Du Beke was sullenly drinking in the bar at Television Centre when an acquaintance from the Countryfile show dropped by. Learning of Antonâs troubles he realised that he could have a solution, and quickly got on the 'phone to a sheep farmer theyâd featured on the show previously. The problem, he told Du Beke, was that theyâd been using modern wool which was favoured for its softness. The farmer raised breeds noted for wool that had fallen out of general favour but still had specialist uses, and his wife and son spun, felted and crafted the fleeces into items for this niche but profitable market. The wool from his Gotland flock would have the coarse springiness and resilience that was required. Du Beke was thrilled: his routine could go ahead!
The evening of the live broadcast arrived and Du Beke was anxious. The padded cap hadnât been delivered and there was less than an hour before showtime. Just as he had resigned himself to using a standard wig from the costume stores there came a call from reception: someone was there smelling strongly of sheep and insisting on seeing Du Beke, but security refused to let him in. The dancer dashed downstairs.
He arrived to hear an ongoing and increasingly heated argument between the sheep farmer and the security guard who was demanding to see what was inside his parcel.
âIâve already told you!â the farmer replied, exasperated. âThatâs wiry felt for the lead hair of Du Beke.â
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This may be the most entertaining lead up to a punchline I have ever read.
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Followed by the crashing disappointment of the punchline itself.
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I was carefully dancing around that.
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Michael Stipe is a consummate musician, and has come to regard any seconds of his life not spent listening to music as wasted - including going to the toilet. While he can just about stomach the missed musical moments of micturition, the longer time it takes to bomb the bowl have always felt painful to poor Michael.
Recently he had solved this problem by spending a little of his hard-earned fortune on a musical toilet. Once Michael is seated and ready to dump a stump, the toilet will announce the song itâs about to sing, such as âLoo sing: Ride of the Valkyriesâ or âLoo sing: Barbarians at the Gateâ.
Recently, while taking the browns to the super bowl, Michaelâs preferred listening is the music of a famous Welsh folk singer, his favourite being her refrain about an old lover of hers from north Wales, a man that she calls âRhyll-ey Jonâ. Nowadays, when Michael makes a deposit at the porcelain bank, he is delighted to hear his toilet announce in its cheerful (if tinny) voice:
âLoo sing: My Rhyll-ey Jonâ
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Magnificent!
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It Rhyll-ey is.
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Shifting attention from scandal to charity is an age-old PR tactic and one used by Publishers Clearing House a few years ago. After agreeing settlements, following court cases over allegations of misleading subscribers about sweepstakes odds, its reputation was tarnished and business was down. The course taken to dig its way out of the slump was twofold: open up a new market and make a big splash in the media with a charity event.
Exactly what sort of charity event was a bit of a problem, since a sweepstakes seemed like it would open barely healed wounds and a telethon would be up against long-established annual events. A different tack was suggested: a national celebrity hide and seek contest in Britain, raising funds for charity and announcing that Publishers Clearing House was in the UK market. Incredibly, it was approved and the search was on to find British celebrities. Robbie Williams signed on, Vic Reeves and Bob Mortimer entered as a team, Dawn French agreed to appear and Lorraine Kelly took a break from morning TV hosting duties to join in. More celebs agreed once a few fairly large names had signed up and it was all looking good.
The three day event was televised and had huge newspaper coverage, as the public were treated to highlights including Nigel Havers getting himself stuck inside a grandfather clock at Chatsworth House, and Roy âChubbyâ Brown being arrested after police were called about a man lurking in the ladiesâ toilets at Selfridgeâs. Donations rolled in and tension mounted as it came down to the final three contestants: Simon Callow, Lorraine Kelly and that bloke off Emmerdale.
The result was due during a primetime special, with veteran American singer Johnny Nash flown in to perform and to announce the champion and the total donations. At nine oâclock Nash was handed a slip of paper. He stepped up to the microphone and told a hushed nation: âHide and Seek Clearing House: Lorraine has won.â
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Not only did I love the punchline, I was gripped by the drama!
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âNever mind the quality - feel the width!â
Iâd just taken a sip of tea when I read that line. I nearly sprayed it over my monitor.
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whoosh? whoosh!
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Many, many years ago, a man was shipwrecked and marooned on an island in the South Pacific. Naturally he was saddened at first, and it took a while for him to come to terms with his situation. He stayed by the beach at first, surviving on coconuts and berries that luckily grew plentifully nearby. However, as time went by he began to feel able to investigate the island, and gradually he widened his explorations. Mostly it was grass, rock or sand, with some patches of trees and bushes. He found a stream. As you would expect on a Pacific island, there were plenty of coconuts. He began almost to enjoy his exploration. There were some birds, and a few small animals, but nothing dangerous. And he saw no sign of people anywhere.
But then one day things changed. Making his way through some trees, he emerged at the edge of a large circular clearing. There was a circle of stones around the outside, and in the centre of the clearing was a small mound. Interested - this was the first sign of people heâd seen on the island - he stepped towards the stone circle.
Suddenly a voice shouted âStop!â He looked around, but saw nobody. As he made to move forward again, the voice repeated âStop! It is forbidden!â And this time a figure emerged from the trees at the other side of the clearing. An old woman with white hair, gesticulating wildly and making it very clear he was not to enter the clearing. Round the circle the old woman came, until she stood before him.
âIt is forbidden,â she said again.
âBut why?â he asked. âForbidden by whom (for he was a stickler for correct grammar)?â
âBy Aha-aha-ai,â answered the old woman.
It must have been clear from the manâs face that this meant nothing to him, for she explained:
âThe elders of our society are known in our tongue as Aha-aha-ai. And they forbid strangers to enter the circle. You are free to walk anywhere else all over the island, but you must not enter the great circle. Aha-aha-ai forbid it absolutely.â
âWell, okay,â replied the man. âI guess if itâs that important to your elders Iâll stay out of the circle. I donât want to offend anyone. But can you tell me why it is forbidden to enter the circle? Your elders, Aha-aha-ai, must have a pretty good reason?â
He expected to hear about a terrible curse, or an evil spirit, that the circle was a sacred burial ground, or that Aha-aha-ai protected the island with a great magic and the circle was at the heart of the spell. That kind of thing.
The woman thought for a while.
âYou know, I donât think there is a particular reason,â she said eventually. âIn fact Iâm pretty sure there isnât.â
âSo the circle isnât sacred? Thereâs no curse?â
âNo, nothing like that. No reason at all,â said the woman.
âItâs just - thatâs the way Aha-aha-ai like it.
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