Happy New Year! 

Some people are doctors, farmers, human rights activists, etc – contributing usefully to the sum of human knowledge and existence in thousands of ways.  Instead, I wrote a pun every day in 2010, and here’s #punliners 334 to 365:

1st – 31st December

“I wish I could draw a set of four aces… wow thanks!” – Djinn Rummy

Apparently eating a load of condiments before battle makes soldiers braver. Hence the expression, “he mustard up his courage”.

Got fired from making appetisers that walk straight into your mouth. They’ve given me my marching hors d’œuvres.

Q: If you have two chickens, and I take one chicken away, what do you have? A: A poultry sum.

I test the Queen’s food for poison in exchange for exemption from tax. It’s dangerous, but there’s no accounting for taste.

I’m a vintage red, she’s a sparkling white – can we ever be together?! I guess the corks of true love never did run smooth…

One moment – I just need to find someone to look after my pet panda. Bear with me.

At first I thought he was wearing a pheasant-shaped shoe, but it’s actually part of his body! Watson, the game’s afoot!

Disapproving elephants. Tusk tusk tusk.

Just heard a long speech about endangered mammals. It did tapir off a bit at the end.

Remember when they offered to let us go camping on their field again and we said no? They’re really having re-tent shun issues.

Lions eat things roar.

Do your bit for the environment – leave your wine bottles outside, sit back and let nature take its corks.

Never judge a calculator by its casing – it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Ever used a putter on a sheet of silica glass? Nothing compares to a quality golf quartz.

I had severe back pain until an Egyptian farmer ran me over. If you’re also suffering, I can recommend a good Cairo tractor.

PRINCES: when you suddenly become King, don’t worry – it’s normal to feel a bit throne.

My skin tone is a very vivid sort of reddish-orange. My mum says I’m one in vermilion.

Can’t think of a way to describe people who, after some thought, talk rubbish. Give me a minute, it’s on the tip of my tongue.

“Just got bitten by an insect.” “Flea?” “No use running, it’s already happened.”

“Captain! Land ho!” “Shore?!” “Pretty positive…”

I ate a binary pony and now my throat’s feeling a bit horse.

As I leaned in to kiss my date she dropped a block of dense, soft metal on my foot. I think I was being lead on.

My ambition to create a softer tartan for Scottish clans sometimes seems futile. Ah well, no use sighing over kilt silk.

I refuse to modernise my music collection, and that’s vinyl.

My party trick is singing a pop song while lifting a heavy bit of wooden furniture – carry-oaky.

“Wotcha Zeus!” – ancient greets

HIP HOP FANS: Want to separate out the sample from the rest of a track? You need a centrifugee.

Tadpoles find TV absolutely ribbeting. It can seem like they have an idea what’s going on, but really they haven’t the froggiest.

Scottish girls on the pull are always tartan about.

I’ve got a dangerous addiction to writing puns. When I think of one, I gag. (It’s beyond a choke)

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Pun. Done.