A guy went out duck hunting, when a very powerful gust of wind blew, which caused his gun to fall over and discharge, and shoot him in his private parts.

Several hours later, lying in a hospital bed, he was approached by his doctor.   

"Well sir, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is that you are going to be OK. The damage was local to your groin, there was very little internal damage and we were able to remove all of the buckshot."

"What's the bad news?" asked the hunter.

"The bad news is that there was some pretty extensive buckshot damage done to your penis which left quite a few holes in it. I'm going to have to refer you to my sister."

"Well I guess that isn't too bad," the hunter replied. "Is your sister a plastic surgeon?"

"Not exactly," answered the doctor.  "She's a flute player in the London Symphony Orchestra. She's going to teach you where to put your fingers so you don't pee in your eye.

Hoppy,

There's many a fine tune played on an old flute!

Peter.

And on an old  [smiley=nopity.gif] or so I'm told  [smiley=lolk.gif]

Hoppy

I love a duck. I knew full well the hunting season was over, and the local policeman was seriously suspicious of me, but taste buds got the better of me.

Before leaving my little cabin for a predawn bit of poaching I walked out the door and yelled into the dark, "Constable O'Flannagan. Come out of the cold, man, and join me in a hot mug  of cocoa!"

Sure enough he emerged from the shadows, shivering, and asked how I could possibly have known he was lying there in wait.

I said I didn't know, but I'd been calling out the same invitation every morning since the hunting season closed.

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