I’ve got a job at the Water Company and it’s well boring.
My job at the Job Centre is OK but if I’m fired I’ll have to come in the next day to talk to my colleagues.
“Never Apologise! Never Explain!” – Sorry, that’s my motto.
I recently found out that I am genetically connected to a Native American tribe. The first thing I thought was “How?”
Read more at: https://inews.co.uk/culture/50-best-jokes-edinburgh-fringe-2018/
Boadicea's Chariot 
When I first started my new job at Rolls Royce the manager gave me a broom with instructions to sweep the floor.
I told him, that can’t be right, I am a university graduate.
He just took the broom of me and said, “Oh, sorry. In that case I need to show you how.”
Groan.
Janus, may you be forgiven.!
I have just wasted far too much of my life trawling through your link. Most of the ‘jokes’ are really, really, depressingly crap.
The totally rubbish one is:-
‘Tory Education Minister goes into a bar, orders a whiskey. Bartender says: “Teachers OK?”. Minister says: “Do I look like I give a shit?” ‘
Inability to spell whisky correctly when referencing a Scottish brand is, in my opinion, keech. I accept, of course, that this could just be the ignorance of the transcriber concerned. The joke is still keech.
Moving on, there are two ‘jokes’ which are totally infuriating to my Jockish ear.
Exhibit the First:- ‘I live in a bungalow, which is nice but it does have one major flaw’
To which I can only comment, ‘That’s interesting. What’s that flaw?’
Clunker the Second:- ‘What do you call a video of two toads having sex? Frogspawn.’
Due to our rolling ‘R’s’, us Jocks can find little comedic joy in such cases.For us, ‘flaw’ sounds nothing like ‘floor’ and ‘pawn’ is nowhere near ‘porn’. In passing, we also struggle ‘Wales’/Whales’-wise due to our aspirationalism.
Whatever. I am, as always, thoroughly enjoying the Edinburgh International Festival and its concomitant Fringe. Looking forward to tomorrow and Mrs M’s rendition, as part of the Festival Chorus, of Dvorak’s Requiem.
Next year, we’re going Southronish to do Aldeburgh, in celebration of Mr’s M’s 70th and of her lifelong passion for the music of B Britten Esq.
I challenge you to come North and plunge yourself into the total experience that is Embra in Festival August.
Yes, the standard is depressingly low. Must be worse for Embrans compelled to endure non-Scottish enunciation. By the way, I used to live next door to the aforementioned B Britten’s niece in Hertfordshire. Envious, huh?
I reckon John Cleese was right, at least about modern “comedians”