  What do Manchester United Fans and sperm have in common? One in 5,000,000 has a chance of becoming a human being.
What do you have when 50 Manchester United Fans are buried up to their neck in sand?
Not enough sand!
You're trapped in a room with a panther, a cobra, and a Manchester United Fan. You have a gun with two bullets. What should you do?
Shoot the United Fan..... Twice!
Did you here that Alex Ferguson's horse won the other day?
Well actually it came third but the stewards carried on with the race until it won!!!!
How do you confuse a United fan?
Show him a map of Manchester.
What has Old Trafford on a Saturday afternoon at 4.45pm got in common with Wormwood Scrubs?
They are both full of cockneys trying to get out.
Alex Ferguson calls David Beckham into his office.
'David,' he says, 'I'm worried about your performance the last few games.
You've been hopeless, completely off form.'
'Sorry, boss', says David. 'I've not been myself lately. I've got a few problems at home.'
'Oh dear,' says Ferguson, pretending to care. 'What's up? Posh and Brooklyn okay?'
'Oh they're fine', says David. 'It's just that something's really bugging me
and I'm losing sleep and everything. I can't concentrate on my football and it's really messing me up.'
'Whatever's the matter, David?' says Fergie.
'Well, boss', says David, 'it's pretty serious. You see I'm really stuck on this jigsaw and...'
'A jigsaw?!!!' shouts Alex. 'You're f**king up every time you play because of a bloody jigsaw?!!!'
'Yeah, boss, but you don't understand, it's really doing my head in!' says David in that horrible whining voice. 'It's really hard and it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I'm sure I've got
all the bits and everything but I just can't get it right and it's doing my head in and I even had my hair cut to try and cool my brain down and...'
'David, David, David,' says Ferguson. 'You've got to get a grip. It's affecting our games and nothing is as important as Manchester United's success, other than Roy Keane's wages, obviously.'
 'Yeah, boss,' says David, 'but it's this picture of a tiger and it looks really good on the box and I really want to finish it but it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture..and it's a tiger and it's hard...and I can't make the bits fit and, er, it's really hard, er, boss and, er, it's a tiger, er,... on the box...er...boss.'
Ferguson waits until even Beckham realises he's repeating himself and has got nothing else to say which took a bit longer than usual.
'David,' he says, with that conceited, irritating, smug smile he uses for self-congratulatory post-match interviews. 'Bring the tiger jigsaw in and let's have a look at it. For Christ's sake, we've got to get you back to
playing football.'
'Oh thanks, boss,' says David, 'that'd be really helpful 'cos it's really hard and it's a picture of a tiger and it's doing my head in, that tiger is.'
So David brings the jigsaw into Ferguson's office.
Here it is, boss.' he says, showing Ferguson the picture on the box. 'Look, boss, it's this tiger, right, and it's a really good picture and everything but I just can't do it and it's really hard and it's doing my head in and it's this picture here of a tiger,' and Beckham empties all the pieces from the box all over Ferguson's desk.
Ferguson looks at what's on his desk and the feint dusty cloud now hanging over it.
He looks up at David Beckham.
'David, put the f**king Frosties back in the box.'
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