The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Jokes (32 page)

A woman who discovers that she has terminal cancer turns to God and becomes a born-again Christian. Early in her sickness, a surgeon proposes radical surgery. “No,” she tells him, “I don’t want to be mutilated and suffer unnecessary pain. God will help me.”

A few weeks later, she sees a radiologist who proposes radiation to treat her rapidly growing tumour. “No,” she says, “I don’t want radiation burns inside and out. It’s not necessary. God will help me.”

A few weeks later she is referred to an oncologist; chemotherapy is advised. “No,” she says, “I don’t want to be sick all the time and lose my hair. God will help me.”

Soon after, she dies. She goes to Heaven and demands an audience with God. “Why didn’t you help me?” she whines.

“What? I sent you help three times: a surgeon, a radiologist and an oncologist. What more did you fucking want?”

I got thrown out of the cancer ward in the local hospital yesterday. Apparently laughter isn’t the best medicine.

A woman goes to her doctor with a swollen abdomen. The doctor examines her and says: “How’s your appetite?”

“I’m eating well, thanks doctor.”

“Well, that’s only natural . . . now that you are eating for two,” replied the doctor.

The woman was overjoyed. “Me and my baby?” “No – you and your fast-growing tumour.”

My wife is forever saying I don’t pay her any attention. So yesterday I was expecting brownie points when I said, “Have you had your hair done, dear? You look different.” She went ballistic. I won’t forget she’s having chemotherapy again in a hurry.

What’s the best thing about having cancer?

Quicker showers.

A young man went to his doctor for a routine check-up. When he came back in for the results, the doctor said gravely, “I think you’d better sit down. I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“Okay, doctor,” said the young man. “Give me the bad news first.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “you have cancer. It’s spreading at an unbelievably rapid rate, it’s totally inoperable and you’ve about three weeks to live.”

“Jesus,” said the young patient, wiping a bead of sweat off his brow. “What’s the good news?”

“You know that receptionist out in the front office? The one with the big tits and the long blonde hair? Well,” said the doctor, leaning forward with a grin, “I’m shagging her.”

A woman visits her doctor complaining of a swelling in her lower abdomen.

The doctor examines her and says, “Well, I can tell you that you’ll need to be buying lots of nappies in about nine months’ time.”

“This is wonderful news – am I pregnant?”

“No, you have bowel cancer.”

A cancer victim walks into a bar. The barman says, “So, what’ll you be having?”

He replies, “A malignant tumour eating away my decrepit body.”

They say time is a great healer. Unless you have terminal cancer.

Doctor: “I’m afraid the tests show that your cancer is advanced. You have six months to live.”

Patient: “But, doctor, I can’t pay off my private medical bills in six months.”

Doctor: “In that case, you have another six months.”

An apple a day keeps the doctor away. Not if you have leukaemia.