I'm particularly fond of the shaggy dog story form of the awful joke. A couple of my favourites:
Young Barry was not the most successful when it came to women. After several years of loneliness, he finally met his perfect woman - Lorraine. Several joyous months passed for Barry. he and Lorraine were perfect for each other. He loved her smile, her sense of humour, everything about her was perfect.
Six months into their budding relationship, and things were already beginning to look much less perfect. Lorraine was becoming frustrated with some of Barry's more nerdy hobbies, the video games, the comic books. She couldn't understand how he could love these things that she saw as childish. Barry, meanwhile, couldn't understand Lorraine's obsession with trying to make him wear fashionable clothing. What was wrong with his ancient, faded jeans and his Game of Thrones T-shirt anyway?
One night, Barry was out on the town with the lads, when he happened to meet another young lady by the name of Claire-Leigh at a club. He was a little tipsy, and found himself chatting and even flirting a little with the beautiful girl, almost forgetting Lorraine. Claire-Leigh, it seeemed, was every bit as nerdy as Barry, and he found the time with her flying by as they chatted about the latest video games and the argued good-naturedly about whether Marvel or DC was the best.
Eventually, the lights in the club came on - it was closing time. Seeing his friends had already gone, Barry offered to walk Claire-Leigh home. She accepted and they walked together to her front door. They said goodnight, and Claire-Leigh surprised Barry as she pulled him to her for a goodnight kiss. Before he left, she grabbed his wrist and scribbled her phone number onto his arm, with a little heart.
The next morning, Barry awoke with a little hangover, but nothing too bad. He felt a little guilty about flirting with Claire-Leigh and kissing her, but nothing had really happened. He resolved to tell Lorraine about it to absolve his guilt. Surely she would understand? She didn't. It was the last straw. Lorraine told him she didn't want to see him anymore. They were breaking up.
She left a distraught Barry alone in his flat. He supposed it had been inevitable, they were too dissimilar, but it still hurt. Then he looked down at his arm, at the number scrawled there. And he realised something. Something that made him happy. So happy, he burst into song...
"I can see Claire-Leigh, now Lorraine has gone!"
----
It was a rare, bright, sunny day in the Scottish Highlands, and John Smith was enjoying his holiday, exploring the beautiful landscape.
He paused for a moment, leaning against a stone wall and taking a long drink from his water bottle.
As he stood, there, taking in the scenery, an older gentleman in a wax jacket, with a border collie at his heel approached and wished him a good afternoon. John nodded a greeting and took another drink. "Beautiful day for it" he said. "Aye, that it is, that it is." the man replied. After a short silence, he spoke again. "Ya see this here wall, laddie?" John indicated that, yes, he could indeed see the very wall he was leaning on. "This wall, laddie, it stretches for five miles, right tae the border of the McAngus property. And I built the whole thing wi' me own bare hands. "But do they call me Hamish the wall builder? No, they dinnae." John wasn't sure how to respond to this, so he merely shrugged and said "I see". Hamish continued.
"You see the barn over yonder? I built that barn with me own two hands when the previous one was taken down in the great storm of '86. I built the previous one as well." "With your own bare hands?" interjected John. "Aye laddie, aye! Wi' me own bare hands. But do they call me Hamish the barn builder? Nae, laddie, they dinnae."
He pointed to the coast. "On a clear day such as this, ya ought to be able to see the wee jetty at the end of the road down there." John indicate that, yes, he could just about make out the jetty. "I built that jetty wi' me own two hands, and three others like it hereabouts. "But do they call me Hamish the jetty builder? Nae, they dinnae."
"The jetties, the barns. They was built wi' timber I cut my own self from the forest over yonder. I felled the trees, hauled them oot o' the forest, cut them intae planks. "But do they call me Hamish the tree feller?"
"I don't suppose they do?" ventured John.
"You'd suppose right laddie."
Hamish sighed a deep, mournful sigh.
"But ya shag one sheep..."