Rumours of a food shortage at this year’s spoonerism conference turned out to be a complete lack of pies.
I’m addicted to brake fluid, but it’s OK because I can stop at any time.
All the toilets in the NYPD headquarters have been stolen. The police apparently have nothing to go on.
I’m reading a book about anti-gravity. I just can’t put it down.
I stayed up all night to see where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.
Broken pencils are pointless.