a comedy joke

[dig]

A BLT sandwich in a really nice sports jacket walks into a bar.

And by bar, I mean a the kind of low-down, sticky-floored bar that your mother used to warn you about before the reaper came for her with the rabies. So, a BLT sandwich walks into a bar, takes one sniff of the place and already regrets his choice of drinking establishment. But in for a penny, in for a pound the sandwich thinks. Whilst you never really know what kind of bar you walk into, it looked so much nicer on the outside. Now, I'm not saying it was a palace carved out of marble, but it looked very decent.

So the BLT sandwich walks up to the bar, and it's a pretty decently warm day, roughly in the high twenties. "Boy." says the sandwich, wiping the mayonnaise from the top of his fore-bread, "I sure could do with a pint". He gets to the barman, and lo and behold, asks for a pint. "Can I get a pint of ..uh.. eh.. what kind of wheat beers do you have?" and the barman's like "ah, sorry, pal, we're strictly a lager pub.".

The sandwich immediately envisioned this perfect golden pint of nectar, glistening and gleaming with condensation. The most perfect partner for a parched sandwich like him. The sandwich takes off his jacket, possibly by Armani, and says to the barman "Oh, that's a shame, but no trouble. Can I get a pint of Tennant's?"

And the barman says "Nah mate, we don't serve food here."

 

[Unovia]

A BLT sandwich in a really nice sports jacket walks into a bar.

And by bar, I mean a the kind of low-down, sticky-floored bar that your mother used to warn you about before the reaper came for her with the rabies. So, a BLT sandwich walks into a bar, takes one sniff of the place and already regrets his choice of drinking establishment. But in for a penny, in for a pound the sandwich thinks. Whilst you never really know what kind of bar you walk into, it looked so much nicer on the outside. Now, I'm not saying it was a palace carved out of marble, but it looked very decent.

So the BLT sandwich walks up to the bar, and it's a pretty decently warm day, roughly in the high twenties. "Boy." says the sandwich, wiping the mayonnaise from the top of his fore-bread, "I sure could do with a pint". He gets to the barman, and lo and behold, asks for a pint. "Can I get a pint of ..uh.. eh.. what kind of wheat beers do you have?" and the barman's like "ah, sorry, pal, we're strictly a lager pub.".

The sandwich immediately envisioned this perfect golden pint of nectar, glistening and gleaming with condensation. The most perfect partner for a parched sandwich like him. The sandwich takes off his jacket, possibly by Armani, and says to the barman "Oh, that's a shame, but no trouble. Can I get a pint of Tennant's?"

And the barman says "Nah mate, we don't serve food here."

You came all that way for that punch line. I just don't know. *Shakes head*

 

[dig]

lel

 

[dig]

Jimi Hendrix walks into a job centre.

Spoiler

He sits down, meets his so-called job adviser. The job adviser pulls out a brochure on the building trade. They were looking to build a new Tesco, right next to the corn exchange. I mean, it's been abandoned for ages, the old corn exchange, and it's got it's own car park right there. So, anyway, he gives Jimi the brochure and he's looking it over, and he's pretty disappointed.

"am no 18, like." he says.

"aye?" says the job adviser.

"aye." says Jimi.

"Alright. What about nursing, in-home kind of care? They're always looking for work. " the adviser says.

"Mate, there's four things in life that I care about; beer, bikes, my guitar, and the blues. I dinnae have the mental strength to care about some disabled guy that cannae eat his cheerios in the morning, y'know. That's no me."

"So you into music" asks the adviser. Ever thought about working at Starbucks?

"Nah mate."

"Would you?"

"Nah mate."

"Let's at least give it a bash? I'm gonnae phone the manager at the Starbucks. You know the one down near the corn exchange?"

"Oh, aye. Near the car park?"

"Aye."

So, the job adviser gets the Starbucks manager on the phone, but disaster strikes, he's not in until lunch, so the job adviser talks to the assistant manager, who, it turns out doesn't really have a lot of sway. It's all title. But he said he'd speak to Jimi anyway, take some details then get the manager to ring Jimi later in the day.

So Jimi is on the phone to the assistant manager, and this is how the joke starts;

"Hey Jimi, great to hear you're interested in a career in Starbucks. What kind of hours are you looking for?"

"Well, to be candid, I want to get fully off benefits. Really, like, thirty-odd hours would be ideal, I have other commitments--"

"Oh? What kind of commitments?"

"Well, I've got me band, I've got me music on the weekends--"

"You can't work weekends? I'll be honest, mate, that's not ideal but it is workable."

"Nah, I mean I could do the odd weekend, but, y'know, I do have things I need to do and be at."

"Ok, I'll write down 'weekends negotiable'."

"Yeah, sure."

"Alright, do you think you could come in for a two-hour, walk around, kind of dry run of the place? Maybe on Monday?"

"Yeah, Monday's fine. What time?"

"Come for two, it's usually not too busy, we've got the lunch rush over with, so it's just kinda stragglers from there."

"Yeah, ok that sounds alright. Monday at two."

"Monday at two. Oh, before I let you go, are you experienced?"