Foul-mouthed Piano Player

This bloke walks into the poshest restaurant in town...

> > "Where's the god ######, mother ######ing 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

######ing,

> > 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".

> >

> > "###### off" replies the bloke "and where's the ######ing piano?"

> > "Pardon ?" says the manager.

> >

> > "######ing 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 ###### 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 ###### 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 allmost 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 champ'. 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 <deleted> are hanging out your

> > trousers and dripping jissum on your shoes?".

> >

> > The bloke replies "Know it ? I ######ing wrote it"