61 Mustache Puns That Are A Cut Above The Lip
Mustaches are having a moment, again, and honestly I don’t think they ever really stopped.
Nautical puns are the one category of wordplay where I genuinely can’t stop. I think it’s because the ocean has given us so many words that have leaked into everyday English, we don’t even notice half of them. “Feeling adrift,” “taking the helm,” “any port in a storm”, the sea is already doing comedy, I’m just pointing at it.
Oh buoy, here we go again.
“I sea what you did there” is probably the most overused nautical pun in existence, and I’m including it anyway because it’s earned its place. It’s the “that’s what she said” of ocean humor. Retired jersey. Still hanging in the rafters.
My boss gives me a stern look every time I make nautical puns at work. I told him to stop being so bow-ring about it.
What do you call a boat that refuses to believe the truth?
In de-Nile. Wait, that’s a river pun. I’m keeping it. Rivers are nautical adjacent. Fight me.
I’m shore glad to see you.
My friend asked me why I keep a nautical chart on my wall even though I don’t own a boat. I told him I just like having something to channel my energy into. He didn’t get it. Nobody ever gets the “channel” ones, which is what makes them superior. A channel is a navigable body of water between two landmasses AND a way to direct something. It works on both levels. This is the hill I die on.
The hull truth is, I love the ocean.
(The “fathom” one is genuinely underrated. A fathom is six feet of depth, and fathom means to understand. English just handed us that one for free.)
I told my wife we should name our WiFi network “The Kraken.” She said no. I said RELEASE THE KRAKEN. She changed the password.
Don’t rock the boat.
Yeah, I know. But sometimes the simplest ones just work.
Having a whale of a time π
(Send this to your group chat from any body of water. Any. A lake, a pool, a bathtub. It doesn’t matter. The pun transcends context.)
Why did the sailor bring a bar of soap to the ocean? He wanted a clean sweep of the deck.
That room looks a bit dingy.
Get it? Dinghy? The small boat? Okay yeah, this one only works in writing. In conversation you’d just sound like you’re insulting someone’s apartment.
I harbor no ill will toward anyone. Except the guy who stole my kayak in 2019. Kevin, if you’re reading this, I still remember.
What’s the ocean’s favorite currency? The current-sea.
He’s a mast-er of his domain.
I was telling my friend about dead reckoning, that’s the navigation method where you estimate your position based on your last known location, speed, and direction, without using celestial observation. She said that sounded like how she navigates relationships. Honestly? Fair. We’ve all been sailing by dead reckoning in our love lives.
We’re having a sail-abration! π
This is objectively terrible. I typed it and winced. But it’s catchy. It would absolutely end up on a bachelorette party banner for someone marrying a Navy guy, and honestly, good for them.
Why don’t sailors ever get lost?
Because they always follow the compass-ion of their hearts.
…that one was a stretch. Moving on.
Something smells fishy about this whole situation.
Asked my friend if she knew how to tie a bowline. She said “I do knot.” I’ve never loved anyone more in that moment. If you don’t know what a bowline is, it’s the “king of knots”, a fixed loop that doesn’t slip. Every sailor knows it. The pun is mid but the delivery was impeccable.
Don’t be so crabby!
I tried to organize a party on a submarine. It went under.
You’re my lob-star. β€οΈ
(Text this to someone you love. Right now. I’ll wait.)
He’s rudder-less without a plan. Just drifting.
Honestly, I think about the word “adrift” a lot. It’s one of those words that started as purely nautical and now we use it to describe existential aimlessness. The ocean gave us our vocabulary for being lost in life. That’s kinda beautiful? Anyway.
There’s a port-hole in my plan.
The sound of the waves is so calming.
This looks like nothing. It looks like a regular sentence. But “sound” is ALSO a body of water, like Puget Sound or Long Island Sound. So this is a stealth pun. A sleeper agent. The kind that sits in a sentence looking completely innocent while doing double duty. I respect it more than any pun on this list.
Whale, hello there!
Why did the captain go to school? To improve his ship-manship.
Ngl, I wrote that one at 2 AM and I can’t tell if it’s clever or just noise.
Don’t let your spirits sink.
La-goon-a be a good day!
I hate this one. I truly do. But it made my friend snort-laugh over text, so it stays. The bar for pun inclusion is “did it make at least one person exhale slightly harder than normal,” and this cleared it by a millimeter.
Asked my coworker if he’d ever been on a schooner. He said he’d never even been on a later-er. I don’t think he understood the question.
“How’s the new job?”
“It’s going swimmingly.”
“Are you adjusting to the team?”
“Yeah, the whole crew is great.”
“Any problems?”
“I’m just trying not to make waves.”
She’s pearl-fect.
Why did the old sailor refuse GPS? He preferred to navigate by the stars, said it gave him a better Polaris-ation of the situation.
This one requires you to know that Polaris is the North Star used in celestial navigation AND that “polarization” is a word. It’s a reach. I won’t pretend otherwise. But I’m proud of the construction even if the execution is wobbly.
I’m feeling a bit tide up with work lately.
What do you call a lazy boat? A sail-out. No wait. A dock potato? That’s not even, okay, honestly, I had a pun here and I lost it. Just imagine something really good about a boat and laziness. Use your imagination. I believe in you.
Any port in a storm, tbh.
(The “oyster-ious” one is garbage and I know it. Sometimes you just commit.)
I see food and I eat it. That’s my sea-food diet.
This joke is older than most ships currently in service. Possibly older than the ocean itself. I’m including it as an act of historical preservation.
Seas the day βοΈπ
What do you get when you cross a sailor with a terrible comedian?
This blog post, apparently.
He’s a star-board member of the yacht club. Gets to sit on the right side of every meeting.
(If you know port from starboard, this one hits different. Starboard = right side of the ship. It’s not my strongest work but it has specificity going for it.)
Let’s dock and talk about our feelings.
Side note, does anyone else find it weird that “dock” means both to bring a ship into port AND to deduct something, like docking someone’s pay? English is unhinged. The language itself is the best pun.
Clam up! I’m trying to concentrate.
My sailing instructor told me I had good “leeway.” Coming from her, that could mean I had room to maneuver OR that I was drifting downwind of my intended course. I chose to take it as a compliment. She did not correct me, which felt like its own kind of answer.
(Leeway is genuinely one of those nautical terms most people use without knowing its origin. The lee side is the side sheltered from the wind. “Giving someone leeway” literally comes from how much a ship drifts sideways. I love this stuff.)
Don’t just drift through life. Unless you’re on a raft. Then by all means.
Wake up, it’s a beautiful day on the water!
The “wake” of a boat. The wake of your alarm. The wake of a funeral, if the boat goes down. It works on at least two levels, possibly three if you’re a pessimist.
I can’t anchor-stand this weather anymore.
Bad. Very bad. I’m sorry.
“Where should we eat tonight?”
“Idk, is-land a good place to live? Maybe we should just move to the coast and eat fish every day.”
“I asked about dinner.”
“Right.”
Time and tide wait for no man.
This isn’t even a pun, really. It’s a proverb. But the fact that “tide” works both as an ocean force and a metaphor for the passage of time makes it one of the most elegant pieces of wordplay in English. I think about it more than I should. It’s been attributed to Chaucer. The man was punning in the 1300s. Respect.
Go with the flow. Follow the current. Don’t fight the riptide of life’s circumstances.
(Okay, that last part sounded like a motivational poster you’d find in a dentist’s office. My bad.)
My friend asked what “abaft” means. I said it’s the nautical term for “toward the stern.” She said “gesundheit.” We’re not friends anymore.
I’ll ferry you across the river, no charge. Wait, actually, that’s literally never how ferries work.
Don’t drown your sorrows. Float them.
(That’s kinda good, right? I’m putting that on a t-shirt. Nobody can stop me.)
He’s a real voyage-r of discovery. Mostly he discovers new restaurants on the waterfront. But still.
Lost my sail-f control at the boat show and bought a catamaran I definitely can’t afford.
The world is your oyster. And if it’s not, at least you can still make chowder.
Mustaches are having a moment, again, and honestly I don’t think they ever really stopped.
Origami is the only hobby where “I folded” is both the thing you’re proud of and the thing you say when you give up.
I’ve been staring at a globe on my desk for twenty minutes now and honestly, the world is just begging to be punned.
Eye puns are the hill I’m willing to die on. I don’t know what it is about them, maybe it’s the sheer density of anatomical terms that...
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