The Best Lawyer Jokes
Lawyers are the butt of many jokes that focuses on their ambulance chasing, back stabbing and money grubbing habits. But lawyer jokes tend to be rather predictable, with the lawyer getting the short end of the stick right at the end. The lawyer jokes below are among the best that I have found, while still focusing on a lawyer’s rather unsavory habits, do have a surprise at the punchline. If you are a good lawyer that does not indulge in the aforementioned bad habits, then join us in enjoying the jokes below, because they are not about you.
There was this engineer who got sent to Hell by mistake. When he arrived, he found the conditions rather unpleasant. After a while, he found that he could get used to the indignities, abuse and insults that are common in Hell but he just can’t get used to the heat. It was really hot everywhere, all the time.
So, in his spare time, he invented air conditioning. His box became the coolest spot in Hell and everybody wanted a taste of his air conditioning. Even the devil’s minions were calling. He would get special considerations from them, in return for some time in his box.
His fame spread far and wide. Soon, all of Hell knew of his little box where the temperature was a little lower than the rest of Hell.
Then one day, the Devil himself came calling. And the Devil decided he liked this new thing which the engineer called air conditioning. He got the engineer on staff , and soon, the whole of Hell was air conditioned.
God got wind of the new improvements in Hell, and he didn’t like it one bit. He did a bit of checking and found that the engineer had been sent to Hell by mistake. So he called up the Devil and politely requested that he return the engineer.
“Remember your no return policy? Whoever gets sent here will have to stay...forever!” the Devil was gloating. It wasn’t everyday that God wanted something that he has. “Besides, I like having a engineer on the staff. He told me that the next thing he’s going to do is to invent and install CCTV in every chamber in Hell, so that I can check if my minions are doing their work without getting up from my chair.”
“And after that, he’s going to design robot minions for me,” the Devil continued. “The robot minions will work 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, without complaining, without getting sick, and I don’t even have to pay them. In time, I think I’m going to have to rename this place. Maybe I’d call it Second Heaven. What do you think?”
God was beside himself. “You send him up here this instant! Or...or...I’ll sue.”
“Let’s not blow our top, shall we? Remember that anger is a sin, and you don’t want to have to send yourself down here, do you?” the Devil replied cheekly. “And anyway, where are you going to find a lawyer in Heaven?”
It had been a hectic morning for Shirley, a receptionist at a law firm. One of the firm’s partners was killed in a plane crash over the weekend and the phone had been ringing off the hook. It was nearly lunch time and everybody that needed to be informed had already been informed and it seemed that everybody who wanted to offer their condolences had already called.
Shirley was enjoying a rare moment of peace when the phone rang again. The caller, speaking in a heavy Indian accent, asked for Mr Snell, the partner that was killed in the plane crash.
“I’m sorry but Mr Snell was killed in a plane crash on Sunday. If you are one of his clients, I can put you through to Mr Pereira, who is now in charge of Mr Snell’s cases.”
“He’s dead?” The caller sounded almost happy, as if he had been given a piece of good news.
“Yes,” Shirley replied. “Mr Snell was killed on Sunday. Shall I put you through to Mr Pereira?”
“No. Thanks.” And the caller hung up.
After lunch, this same caller with the heavy Indian accent called again. He again asked for Mr Snell, and Shirley again politely repeated what she had said earlier.
One hour later, he called yet again and asked for Mr Snell. Shirley was getting frustrated. “Listen carefully, Mr Snell is dead. Dead as in he’s gone to the great big courtroom in the sky. It doesn’t matter how many times you call, Mr Snell is still dead. If you call tomorrow, or next week, or next month, he will still be dead. Do you understand me?
“I understand you perfectly,” the caller replied. “It is just that I really love hearing you say it over and over again.”
A physicist, an engineer and a lawyer were shortlisted for the position of chief executive officer of a large multinational company.
As part of the final interview, each of them was asked a long list of questions. The very last question was, “How much is two plus two?”
When the physicist was confronted with last question, he asked about the context from which the question was asked and whether any more details can be supplied. But he was told that the question stands as it is, and no additional details can be added. The physicist thought for a minute, and decided that sometimes, the obvious answer can be the right answer. So he answered, “Four.”
When it was the engineer’s turn, he paused for a moment and asked the interviewer to repeat the question. When he was satisfied that he’d heard the interviewer right, he did what any engineer would do. He gave a short, concise answer to a short, concise question. He answered, “Four.”
The lawyer was the last to be interviewed, and when he heard the last question, he told the interviewer that he needed a moment. He then walked around the room drawing the blinds and locking the door. He came back to the interviewer and asked in a hushed voice, “How much do you want it to be?”
It had been a good life, and he had fought the good fight, and his doctor had told him that his time was nearly up. He’d put all his affairs in order, as all good lawyers should, and he went to sleep that night feeling a little more tired than usual.
He woke up the next day at the pearly gates, having expired in his sleep the night before. Standing next to him was the Pope, whose time was also up. St. Peter greeted them graciously, congratulated them on a life well lived, and offered to show the Pope to his quarters.
St. Peter snapped his fingers, and they were transported to a rather spartan apartment. It has the basic necessities, and the Pope should be pretty comfortable there, but it was definitely a downgrade from what the Pope was used to on Earth.
Once the necessary paperwork had been completed and the Pope was nicely settled in his apartment, St. Peter turned to the lawyer and said, “Let’s go to your quarters now.”
St. Peter snapped his fingers and they were transported to what can best be described as a mansion. It had a private swimming pool, a garden, more rooms than he can count, and it even came with a staff at his beck and call. St. Peter was most apologetic and said that the lawyer’s arrival was not anticipated for another year and that that was the best that he can come up with in the time that he had.
The lawyer was pleasantly surprised and remarked that he didn’t expect such accommodation as even the Pope was entitled to just an apartment. He wondered what he did that merited such reward.
St. Peter replied, "Popes are a dime a dozen over here. At last count, we have over a hundred Popes. But this is the first time we have had a lawyer up here.”
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