Dave the Scouser is touring the USA. Along the way, he stops off at a remote bar in the Nevada desert and chats to the bartender when he spots a Red Indian in full tribal dress seated in the corner of the bar. "Blimey!" remarks Dave. "Who's he?" "Gee, that's the memory man," replies the bartender. "He knows everything there is to know. Got a memory like an elephant, he can remember any fact. Heck, go and try him out!" Dave heads over to the Red Indian, thinking that he can outsmart him with a question about English football. He asks the memory man, "Who won the 1965 FA cup final?" "Liverpool," came the instantaneous reply. Dave was stunned. He tried again asking, "Who did they beat?" "Leeds," replied the memory man. Dave tried once more asking, "What was the final score?" The wise Red Indian didn't hesitate in answering, "2-1." Dave thinks he'll get smart, asking the memory man for the name of the winning goal scorer. Without so much as blinking, the Red Indian says, "Ian St John." Dave is stunned and returns home to Liverpool, where he tells everyone about the Red Indian. Dave's curiosity lingers, and he vows to return to American and pay his respects to the Indian. Ten years later, Dave finally saved up enough money to return and, after weeks of searching the Nevada desert, once more he finds the Red Indian, now in a cave. Humbled by the Red Indian, Dave steps forward, bows, and greets the brave in his traditional tongue. "How," Dave says. The memory man squints at him and replies, "A diving header in the six-yard box."

I've just got a job in a call centre, but I'm crap at it. Everytime I try an Indian accent, it comes out sounding Welsh.

A White, a Black and an Indian are walking along the beach when they find a magic lamp. Quick as a flash, out pops a Genie. "Ah, you have freed me," says the Genie. "I will grant you each one wish to show my gratitude." The Indian says, "I wish all the Indians were home in India living happy lives." Poof! He dissapears. The Black says, "I wish all the Blacks were home in Africa living happy lives." Poof! he dissapears. Then the White turns to the Genie and says, "so you're telling me there are no Blacks or Indians in the country?" "Yes, I suppose so," replies the Genie. The White says, "well, I'll just have some champagne then."

Apparently, no Indians have actually been killed in the terrorist attacks in Mumbai... They were all found safe and sound, hiding. In Bradford

I went for an Indian last night. The waiter came over and said "Curry OK?" I said "Go on then, one song then you can fuck off".

Newsflash: 200 Indians have been killed overnight in a terrorist bombing in Bradford. On initial investigation, experts say that both council houses have been totally destroyed.

An Englishman, Welshman and West Indian are in hospital, waiting for their wives to give birth. There is quite a bit of pacing up and down when the nurse comes out and happily announces that they are all fathers of bouncing baby boys. "There's just one problem," she says. "Because they were all born at the same time, we got the tags mixed up and we don't know which baby belongs to whom. Would you, as their fathers, mind coming to identify them?" The men agree and walk into the delivery room and look at the babies. Immediately the Englishman stoops down and picks up the black baby. "Yes, this is definitely my baby," he says confidently. "Um, excuse me," says the West Indian, "but I think it's fairly obvious that this is my son." The Englishman pulls him aside and says, "I see where you're coming from, mate, but one of these babies is Welsh and I'm not prepared to take the risk."

I fancied a curry last night, so I rang my local Restaurant. I couldn't believe it, even the take away uses a fucking Indian Call Centre.

What do you call an Indian with pink hair? Gandhi floss.

This Indian bloke walks into this supermarket and ask the attendant what kind of toilet paper they have for sale. The attendant shows him three brands. The first brand is called Kleenex and costs two pounds for two rolls, the second brand is Sorbent and costs one pound for two rolls and the third brand is a no name brand and costs fifty pence for five rolls. The Indian says, "Five rolls for fifty pence, that is cheap - think of the Vindaloos I can have." So the Indian buys the no name toilet paper and leaves. The next day he returns to the store and finds the attendant and says to him, "I still have got four toilet rolls left, but I have found a name for your toilet roll." The attendant looked confused when he said that and asked him to explain. The Indian says, "You should call it John Wayne toilet paper!" The attendant said, "Why John Wayne?" And the Indian replies, "Because it was rough, tough and took no shit!

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