Jim sent me these today. I hate puns. I really hated these. I hope you hate them, too.

A Freudian slip is when you say one thing but mean your mother.

A pessimist’s blood type will always b-negative.

A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

A successful diet is the triumph of mind over platter.

A gossip is someone with a great sense of rumour.

A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.

A boiled egg in the morning is hard to beat.

A plateau is a high form of flattery.

Dancing cheek-to-cheek is really a form of floor play.

Corduroy pillows are making headlines.

Marriage is the mourning after the knot before.

Acupuncture is a jab well done.

Does the name Pavlov ring a bell?

A backward poet writes inverse.

Dijon vu – the same mustard as before.

When a clock is hungry, it goes back four seconds.

When you dream in colour, it’s a pigment of your imagination.

When the actress saw her first gray hairs, she thought she’d dye.

Without geometry, life is pointless.

A man’s home is his castle, in a manor of speaking.

Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

Bakers trade bread recipes on a knead-to-know basis.

He often broke into song because he couldn’t find the key.

Once you’ve seen one shopping centre, you’ve seen a mall.

The short fortune teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at large.

Those who get too big for their britches will be exposed in the end.

I think I hated “Without geometry, life is pointless” the most. 😉