|This bloke walks into the poshest restaurant in town!|
"Where's the god damn, 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 in 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 washing 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 blokes 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! (get the picture).
Any way its too much for the bloke and he runs off to the bogs to 'wrestle with his bald headed champ'. His pulling away furiously when he hears the managers voice "where's that bloody 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 gets 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 jism on your shoes?".
The bloke replies "Know it, I fucking wrote it"