Your 5 Jokes for October 21, 2013: Battery Jokes

Angry Client

An angry client went back to the automobile garage where he’d purchased an expensive battery for his car just six months earlier.

“Listen,” the motorist grumbled to the owner of the garage, “when I bought this battery you said it would be the last battery my car would ever need. It died after only six months!”

“Sorry,” apologized the garage owner. “I didn’t think your car would last longer than that.”


Only One Man

Did you know, I was reading about an enormous factory in the USA where there is only ONE MAN working - I know what you're thinking - we've got enormous factories where NOBODY'S working - but this one is different - it's got an end product: it is completely automated to make torch batteries, and the only employee is an old priest who stands at the end of the conveyor belt and as the batteries go past he says, "I wish you long life! I wish you long life!"


Remote Control

I recently saw a distraught young lady weeping beside her car. "Do you need some help?" I asked.

She replied, "I knew I should have replaced the battery to this remote door unlocker. Now I can't get into my car. Do you think they (pointing to a distant convenience store) would have a battery to fit this?"

"Hmmm, I dunno. Do you have an alarm, too?" I asked.

"No, just this remote thingy," she answered, handing it and the car keys to me. As I took the key and manually unlocked the door, I replied, "Why don't you drive over there and check about the batteries. It's a long walk."


Sleeping Baby

Little four-year-old Julie was looking at her new baby brother for the first time. He was fast asleep.

After staring at her tiny, motionless baby brother for a few minutes, Julie looked up at her mother and asked plaintively, "Didn't he come with batteries?"


Starting The Car

A few years ago the battery in my beat-up VW Beetle had died because I left the lights on overnight. I was in a hurry to get to work on time so I ran into the house to get my wife to give me a hand to start the car. I told her to get into our second car, a prehistoric oversized gas guzzler, and use it to push my car fast enough to start it.

I pointed out to her that because the VW had an automatic transmission, it needed to be pushed at least 20 mph for it to start.

She said fine, hopped into her car and drove off. I sat there fuming wondering what she could be doing.

A minute passed by and when I saw her in the rear-view mirror coming at me at about 30 mph, I realized that I should have been a bit clearer with my directions.