- The ending of Sirens, when Bloom bids farewell to Richie Goulding whilst increasingly distracted by the fact he has gas. He debates whether wine or cider is to blame, manages to get away from Goulding and then farts under cover of a passing tram.
- The end of the Cyclops chapter, where Bloom is bundled into a cab and the Citizen throws an empty biscuit tin after him, and the impact of the biscuit tin is told as a parody of a news story about a major natural disaster which morphs in and out of something seriously biblical:
And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of the brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon Him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah! Elijah! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Adonai! And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.
- Nausicaa has a couple of darkly comic moments: first, Gerty starts interrupting her own flowery narration with increasingly snarky asides about her friends ("there was a lot of the tomboy about Cissy Caffrey and she was a forward piece whenever she thought she had a good opportunity to show") and the children ("exasperating little brats"). Second, Gerty's narration as she admires Bloom from afar is sort of ridiculous, especially when the reader begins to suspect Bloom is jerking off over her, and that Bloom might just be imagining Gerty is admiring him to get himself off. Despite this, the reveal as Bloom orgasms, accompanied by a fireworks display, and we switch to his point of view, is still pervertedly hilarious. Then Mood Whiplash sets in: Bloom watches Gerty get up and realises she is lame in one leg, and immediately regrets what he just did.
- In Oxen of the Sun, Bloom's bee sting is described in medieval terms as the result of an attack by a wyrm; i.e. a dragon.
- Circe has humour in spades:
"BLOOM: [...] Let me off this once. (He offers the other cheek)MRS YELVERTON BARRY: (Severely) Don't do so on any account, Mrs Talboys! He should be soundly trounced!"
- Bloom's imagined trial, especially the passages featuring several aristocratic women who claim he sent them dirty letters and recount the letters in excruciating detail, before whipping Bloom gleefully. Which he enjoys.
"I shall sit on your ottoman saddleback every morning after my thumping good breakfast of Matterson's fat hamrashers and a bottle of Guinness's porter. (He belches) And suck my thumping good Stock Exchange cigar while I read the Licensed Victualler's Gazette. Very possibly I shall have you slaughtered and skewered in my stables and enjoy a slice of you with crisp crackling from the baking tin basted and baked like sucking pig with rice and lemon or currant sauce."
- Bloom's ridiculous Power Fantasy.
- Bloom's grandfather materialising to give him sexual advice.
- Stephen's hallucination of two Oxford professors hovering in midair with lawnmowers, which appears to be a parody of Good Angel, Bad Angel, if not for the fact that this trope didn't really exist at the time Ulysses was written.
- Bloom's Gender Bender fantasy, while disturbing (bordering on Nightmare Fuel), is also very, very funny.
"(He gives up the ghost. A violent erection of the hanged sends gouts of sperm spouting through his deathclothes on to the cobblestones. Mrs Bellingham, Mrs Yelverton Barry and the Honourable Mrs Mervyn Talboys rush forward with their handkerchiefs to sop it up.)''
- Stephen runs off into the night after breaking a chandelier, and Bloom apologetically settles up.
- Stephen's exchange with the furious British soldiers, as he calmly tries to persuade them not to punch him and is met with a barrage of insults.
- Figures from Irish folklore turn up to moderate the fight between Stephen and the soldiers, including the Croppy Boy, who dies. We then get this pure gold line:
- In Aeolus: K.M.A. 'Will you tell him he can kiss my arse?', soon followed by K.M.R.I.A. 'He can kiss my royal Irish arse'.