Ben
Banned
Registered: 12th Jan 03
Location: West Yorkshire
User status: Offline
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This bloke walks into the poshest restaurant in town and says, "Where's the goddam, mother
fooking Manager you **** sucking arse wipe." 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 fcuking manager of this fcuking
joint?". "Yes, sir, I am," replies the manager, "and I would prefer it if you could refrain from speaking
such profanities in this, a private restaurant".
fcuk off!" replies the bloke. "And where's the fcuking piano?"
"Pardon?" says the manager.
"fcuking deaf as well are we? You little piece of sniveling cnut, show us your pissing piano."
"Ahhhh," replies the manager. "You've come about the pianist's job," and shows the bloke to the
piano. "Can you play any blues?"
"Of course I fcuking can," and the bloke proceeds to play the most inspiring and beautiful sounding
honky tonk blues that the manager has ever heard.
"Why, that's superb, what's it called?"
"I want to fcuk your missus on the sofa but the springs keep hurting my knob," replies the pianist.
The manager is a bit disturbed and asks if the bloke knows any jazz. The bloke proceeds to play
the most melancholy jazz solo the manager has ever heard.
"Magnificent!" cries the manager. "What's it called?"
"I wanted a fcuk over the washin' machine but my bollocks 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 fcuk 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 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! It's too much for the bloke and he runs off to the bogs to
'wrestle with his bald headed champ'. He's pulling away furiously when he hears the manager's
voice...
"Where's that bloody pianist?"
He just has time to shoot his bolt and in a fluster he runs back to the piano, not having 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 balls are hanging out your trousers and dripping spunk on your shoes?".
"Know it," the pianist replies, "I fcuking wrote it!"
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