Showbiz Jokes
Q: How many actors does it take to screw in a light bulb?
A: Four. One to do it, and three to kick the chair out from under him.
Q: What's the best way to kill a variety act?
A: Go for the juggler.
A man makes an appointment with a doctor. When the doctor sees him, the man rolls up his sleeve to reveal a horrible rash on his right arm from his fingertips past his elbow.
"My God," the doctor says, "I've never seen anything like this!"
"I think it's work related," the man says. "You have to help me."
"What do you do for a living?"
"Well, I work with the circus, doc. We've got elephants, and sometimes the elephants have some problems with their diet. They get really constipated. That's where I come in. I have to give these suppositories to the elephants and then massage their colons for an hour."
"By hand?" the doctor asks. "That's got to be one of the worst jobs I've ever heard of. Look at that rash! If I were you, I'd find another line of work."
The man looks at him startled. "What, and give up showbusiness?"
An actor down on his luck gets an unexpected call one morning from his agent. "Listen," he says, "I have an opportunity for you. A producer just called me; one of his actors got a part in another show, and he needs somebody starting tonight. It's just one line, but it's an important one. You walk out at the beginning of the play, and you say, 'Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!' You think you can handle that?"
"Of course! Thank you! This is fantastic!" the actor replies.
"Great, kid. Be at the Shubert at 6:30 tonight for call."
So all day, the actor keeps repeating to himself, "Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!" He repeats the line over and over again, during lunch, during dinner, taking a shower, in the cab ride on the way to the theater.
Once in costume and makeup, the actor paces back and forth backstage, all the while repeating to himself, "Hark, I hear the cannon's roar!" The stage manager calls the cast to places, and the actor eagerly awaits his entrance.
The curtain rises, the lights come up, and the actor walks confidently out on stage. As he does, the mighty BOOM of a cannon thunders through the theater.
In response, the actor jumps and yells out, "What the hell was that?"
The same actor gets another unexpected call one morning from a Broadway producer. "Listen," he says, "if you can remember one line of dialogue and get down to the Shubert for a costume fitting, I can put you in a play this evening. Can you do that? Can you remember one lousy line of dialogue?"
"I can," the actor replies. "No problem at all."
"Here's all you have to do," says the producer. "At the beginning of the second act, you walk out on stage holding a long-stemmed red rose. You sniff the rose and say, 'Ah, the sweet fragrance of my mistress.' Can you do that? Can you remember that one line:"
"I can do it. Please, just give me a chance. I can do it."
"All right," the producer replies. "You've got your chance. Get down to the theater."
The actor heads down to the theater district. As he's being fitted for his costume, he rehearses the line. Over and over, he says it. The first act begins. The actor rehearses backstage. The first act ends; the audience goes out for intermission. The actor keeps rehearsing. Intermission ends; the audience returns.
The curtain rises for the second act. The actor makes his entrance and delivers his line. Pandemonium ensues. The audience is laughing so hard that the play can't continue. The curtain is lowered. The producer storms onto the stage, furious. "You son of a bitch! You've ruined the play!" he screams.
"How?" the actor replies. "Did I forget the line?"
"No, you forgot the rose!"
A man takes his place in the theater for opening night, but his seat is all the way in the back row. The man calls an usher over and says, "I just love a good mystery, and I've been anxiously anticipating the opening of this play. I just don't think I can fully enjoy the play without being able to watch it close up. Look how far away I am! If you can get me a better seat, there's a handsome tip in it for you."
"Sir," the usher replies, "I'll be happy to see what I can do."
With that, the usher hurries to the box office, hoping to find some closer tickets. With just three minutes left until curtain, he finds an unused ticket at the Will Call window and snatches it up.
Returning to the patron in the back of the theater, he whispers, "Follow me." He leads the man down to the second row, and proudly points out the empty seat right in the middle.
"Thanks so much," says the theatergoer, "this seat is perfect!" He then hands the usher a quarter.
The usher looks down at the quarter, leans over and whispers, "Thank you, sir. The butler did it in the parlor with the candlestick. Enjoy the show."
Three men arrive at the gates of Heaven. St. Peter steps out and says to the first guy, "How much money did you make last year?"
"$150,000," he replies.
"That's pretty good," St. Peter says. "What did you do for a living?"
"I was an agent."
"Okay, that's good," St. Peter says. "Go on and meet God."
The second guy steps forward. St. Peter asks, "How much did you make last year?"
"One and a half million."
"Very nice," St. Peter says. "What did you do?"
"I was a studio executive."
"Excellent! Go meet God."
The third guy steps forward. St. Peter asks: "How much did you make last year?"
"$2,222.22."
"Huh," says St. Peter. "What have I seen you in?"
A man walks into a talent agent's office, and says, "I've got a family act, and we'd like you to represent us."
The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too old-fashioned."
"But our act is really special."
The agent shrugs and replies, "Okay, so what's the act?"
"Well, my wife and I come out on stage, and she starts singing the Star Spangled Banner while I take her roughly from behind. After a minute of this, my son and daughter come out, and she sings Ave Maria while my son fists her."
The agent looks uncomfortable, but the man continues. "Then our pet dog—he's a Great Dane—comes out on the stage. My son sodomizes the dog, and my wife sucks the dog off while he's licking my daughter into orgasm. While that's going on, I'm painting myself in fecal body art. For the encore, we take a bow and then the four of us take a whiz on the audience in the front row. What do you think?"
The agent just sits in silence for a long time. Finally, he stammers, "That's one hell of an act. What do you call yourselves?"
"The Aristocrats."