It was an extremely rough English Channel crossing from Weymouth to Jersey, and one wretched green-faced passenger was hugging the rail when a steward approached him.
“Lunch, sir?” asked the tactless steward.
“No, thanks,” groaned the passenger. “Jus throw it overboard and save me the touble…
Tom, Dick and Harry were traveling in the desert. Arriving at a small village they could find nowhere to sleep but a strange inn whose landlord, though willing to take them in for the night, would offer only a bed of fire, a bed of nails, and a bed of fleas.
In the morning, they compared notes over breakfast. The bed of fire was awful,” said Tom. “Very uncomfortable. I didn’t sleep a wink, and I’m scorched all over.”
“I had a bad night, too,” said Dick. “That bed of nails was dreadful. I’m covered with holes.”
“I slept fine,” declared Harry. “My bed of fleas was no trouble at all. I just killed one flea and all the rest went to the funeral!”
"I hope this plane doesn't travel faster than sound," said the old lady to the stewardess.
"Why?"
"Because my friend and I want to talk, that's why."
“I’ve never flown before," said the nervous old lady to the pilot. “You will bring me down safely, won’t you?"
“All I can say ma’am,” said the pilot, “is that I’ve never left anyone up there yet!”