I’m on holiday in Jamaica hanging out with friends and a bunch of Jamaicans they know. Everybody is telling stories. People are laughing and fooling around, and then, they turn to me and say, “Hey, Paul, tell us a joke from England, nuh man? You must know whole heap-a-good jokes from over there.”

I’m like, no, you know, I’m no good at telling jokes.

They say, “Come, man. We’re all here telling jokes, drinking rum, and acting stupid. What you have for us?”

So I wrack my brain…wrack my brain, and eventually, I come up with this one joke I could remember that some guy in a pub told me once. So I say to them, okay then. I’ll tell you a funny story. All ears prick up ready to tune into the English accent.

You know about the Heimlich Manoeuvre, don’t you?

They say, “The what?”

I said The Heimlich Manoeuvre.

“What’s that?”

Suppose you go to a restaurant and someone is choking. You have to go behind the person and wrap your arms around their waist below the ribcage and above the navel. Grasp your fist with your other hand and press into their abdomen with a quick upward thrust. Hmm!

“Okay, okay, yeah, yeah, yeah,” they say. “Seen it on TV.”

That’s called the Heimlich Manoeuvre.

“Riiiight!”

So this Little Guy is at this restaurant. He’s an A-G-I specialist, you know. Works for this Aeronautical company in England. Bunch of them over there at this restaurant, a bit like us here tonight, see. Having the usual liquor and what not when suddenly the Boss Man starts choking. The Boss Man has swallowed a piece of meat, and it’s gone down the wrong hole. He’s choking to death, and everybody is in a panic.

Little Guy comes running up from the back shouting, “Move away, move away, I know about how to do this. Move out the way.” People step back as if Moses was parting the red sea. The Little Guy waltzes over, flip the Boss Man upside down, drags his pants off, and licks his arse.

The Boss Man goes, “Bleeeuuurrrggghh!” and vomits all over the floor.

The Little Guy yells, “You see. You see. It works. It works. The Hind Lick Manoeuvre!”

Nobody said a word. Not a snigger. Not a sound. Total silence. Hind Lick–you get it? Everybody just sat there looking at each other as if to say; “he didn’t just step off the plane to come here and tell us Jamaicans a battyman joke?”

And if you heard the stories some of them were telling, dreadful. Disgusting. But for them, it was all right. Me telling a joke about a guy licking a man’s arse…shiiiit. I’m lucky they didn’t string me up.

All these Jamaicans just sat there behaving as if I’d farted in church. It was like a fog had come over their faces and nobody looked my way. When I tried to catch the attention of my friends, they were all looking down acting like, “Oh shame, we don’t even know this guy.”

Wrong thing. Wrong place. Wrong time. I thought the joke was quite funny, really. But whenever I think of it now, it’s the expression on the faces of the Jamaicans that night that becomes the joke. I swear to God—if looks could kill. Bwoy, Jamaica, Jamaica, my people nuh easy, you nuh.

Know any good jokes? Post them in the comments.

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