A very attractive woman goes up to the bar in a quiet rural pub.
She gestures alluringly to the bartender, who comes over immediately. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face closer to hers.
When he does so, she begins to gently caress his full beard. “Are you the manager?”, she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
“Actually, no” the man replies.
“Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him,” she says, running her hands beyond his beard and into his hair.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” breathes the bartender. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message,” she continues, slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.
"Ah..what should I tell him?” the bartender manages to squeak.
“Tell him,” she whispers, “there is no toilet paper or hand soap in the ladies room.”
Why don’t you see penguins in Britain? Because they’re afraid of Wales.
Why are there no penguins in Britain? Because they’re afraid of Wales.
The Art of Discretion
Six retired Floridians play high stakes poker in the condo clubhouse.
A member of the group, Meiers, loses $5,000 on a single hand, clutches his chest and drops dead at the table.
Showing respect for their fallen comrade, the other five finish playing the hand standing up.
Finkelstein looks around and asks, "So, who's gonna' tell his wife?"
They cut the cards, and Goldberg "wins" the duty. They tell him to be discreet, be gentle, not to make a bad situation any worse.
"Discreet? I'm the most discreet person you'll ever meet. Discretion is my middle name," he says. Leave it to me."
Goldberg goes over to the Meiers' apartment and knocks on the door. Mrs. Meiers wife answers and asks what he wants.
Goldberg declares, "Your husband just lost $5,000 playing poker, and is afraid to come home."
"Tell him to drop dead!" says the wife.
"Will do," he says.
Doctor: "Sir, I'm afraid your DNA is backwards" Me: "And?"
The Old Lady and the Gentleman-For-Hire
A little old lady checked into a motel on her 70th birthday, but she was a bit lonely.
She thought, "I'll call one of those men you see advertised in the phone books for escorts and sensual massages." She looked through the phone book, found a full-page ad for a guy calling himself Tender Tony - a very handsome man with assorted physical skills flexing in the photo. He had all the right muscles in all the right places, thick wavy hair, long powerful legs, a dazzling smile, six-pack abs, and she felt quite certain she could bounce a quarter off his butt.
The old lady figured, what the heck, nobody will ever know. She gave him a call.
"Good evening, ma'am, how may I help you?"
Oh my, he sounded sooo sensual! Thought the old lady. Afraid she would lose her nerve if she hesitated, she rushed right in. "Hi, I hear you give a great massage. I'd like you to come to my motel room and give me one. No, wait, I should be straight with you. I'm in town all alone and what I want is s*x. I want it hot, and I want it now. Bring rubber, leather, whips, everything you've got in your bag of tricks. We'll go hot and heavy all night - tie me up, cover me in chocolate syrup and whipped cream, anything and everything, I'm ready!! Now how does that sound?" asked the old lady.
"That sounds absolutely fantastic, madam, but you need to press 9 for an outside line."
Why is 6 afraid of 7? It’s not. Numbers aren’t sentient and are therefore incapable of feeling fear.
Can You Let the Manager Know Please?
A rather attractive woman goes up to the bar in a quiet rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the barman who comes over immediately.
When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face close to hers.
When he does so, she begins to gently caress his beard, which is full and bushy.
"Are you the manager?" she asks, softly stroking his face with both hands.
"Actually, no," he replies.
"Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him." she purrs, running her hands up beyond his beard and into his hair.
"I'm afraid I can't" breathes the barman, evidently getting a bit hot under the collar by this point. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes there is. I need you to give him a message," she continues huskily, touching his lips.
"Tell him," she says, "that there is no toilet paper or hand soap in the ladies' room."