Hey, for old times, do you remember the joke that started all this....
This bloke walks into the poshest restaurant in town!
"Where's the goddam, mother fucking Manager you cock sucking
arse wipe?" he politely inquires to one of the waiters.
The waiter is naturally taken aback and replies, "Excuse me sir but
could you please refrain from using that sort of language in here, I will get
the manager as soon as I can". The manager comes over and the bloke asks,
"Are you the chicken-fucking, manager of this bastard joint?".
"Yes sir, I am," replies the manager, "but I would prefer it if
you could refrain from speaking such profanities in this, a private restaurant".
"Fuck off" replies the bloke "and where's the fucking piano?"
"Pardon ?" says the manager.
"Fucking deaf as well, are we? You little piece of snivelling
shit, show us your pissing piano"
"Ahhhh !" replies the manager, "you've come about the pianist
job" and shows the bloke to the piano."Can you play any blues?".
"Of course I can," and the bloke proceeds to play the
most inspiring and beautiful sounding honky tonk blues that the
manager has ever heard.
"That's superb. What's it called?"
"I want to fuck your missus on the sofa but the springs keep hurting
me knob," replies the bloke.
The manager is a bit disturbed and asks if the bloke knows any jazz.
The bloke proceeds, playing the most melancholy jazz solo the
manager has ever heard. "Magnificent !" cries the manager. "What's it called?"
"I wanted a wank over the washin' machine but me balls got
caught in the soap drawer".
The manager is a tad embarrassed and asks if he knows any
romantic ballads, the bloke then plays the most heartbreaking
melody.
"And what's this called ?" asks the manager.
"As I fuck you under the stars with the moonlight shining off your
hairy ring-piece," replies the bloke.
The manager is highly upset by the bloke's language but offers
him the job on condition that he doesn't introduce any of his songs
or talk to any of the customers. This arrangement works well for a
couple of months until one night sitting opposite him is the most
gorgeous blonde he has ever laid his eyes on, she's wearing an almost see
through dress, her tits are almost falling out the top of her black
lace bra and the skimpy little 'G' string she's wearing is riding
up the crack of her arse. She is sitting there with her legs slightly
open sucking suggestively on asparagus shoots and the butter is
dripping down her chin! (get the picture).
Any way its too much for the bloke and he runs off to the bogs to
'wrestle with his bald headed chimp'.
He's pulling away furiously when he hears the managers voice
"Where's that bastard pianist ?".
He just has time to shoot his bolt and in a fluster he runs back to
the piano having not bothered to adjust himself properly, sits down
and starts playing some more tunes.
The blonde steps up and walks over to the piano, leans over and
whispers in his ear, "Do you know your knob and bollocks are hanging
out your trousers and dripping jissum on your shoes?".
The bloke replies "Know it ? I fucking wrote it".
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