Walking into a bar, a fellow noticed a very large jar on the counter and saw that it was completely full up with £10 notes...
He guessed there must be more than ten thousand pounds in it. He approached the bartender and asked, 'What's with the jar full of money?'
'Well...you pay ten pounds and if you pass three tests, you get all the money and the keys to a brand new Lexus.'
The man certainly wasn't going to pass this up, so he asked, 'What are the three tests?'
'Well, you must pay first, this is the rule,' said the bartender.
So, after mulling it over for a while, the man gave his ten-pound-note to the bartender, who dropped it into the jar and said: 'Okay, here's what you need to do:
'Firstly - You've got to drink a whole quart of tequila in a minute or less, and you must not make a face while you are doing it.
'Secondly - There is a pit bull terrier chained up in the back with a bad tooth. You've got to remove the tooth with your bare hands.
'Thirdly - There is an 87-year old lady upstairs who has never had sex... You've got to take care of that problem too!'
The man was staggered. 'I know I paid my ten pounds, but I am no idiot! I won't do it! You would have to be crazy to drink a quart of tequila, and do all those other things...'
'It's your call,' shrugged the bartender, ‘but your money stays where it is.'
As the evening went on, and the man had a few more drinks, he finally said,' Okay, where's the tequila?'
He seized the bottle with both hands and drunk it as fast as he could. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but he didn't make a face, and he managed it in fifty-eight seconds!
Next, he staggered out the back door, where he saw the pit bull chained to a pole. Soon the people inside the bar heard growling, snarling, and screaming noises... then silence.
Just when it seemed the man must surely be dead, he staggered into the bar, with his shirt ripped open, there were multiple scratches and he was bleeding everywhere.
'Now,' he said, 'where is that old woman with the bad tooth?'
The moral of the story is: Listen carefully to the directions and do not trust your judgment where alcohol is involved!
A woman was at the hairdresser's getting her hair restyled for a trip to Rome with her husband.
She mentioned the trip to the lady hairdresser, who said bluntly: "Why the hell would anybody want to frequent that place? Rome's crowded, dirty and quite smelly. So, how are you getting there?"
"We're taking United," came the reply; "we got a great rate!"
"United? That airline's horrible!" the hairdresser said harshly. "The flight attendants are ugly, the planes are very old, squashed, and they run late. Where are you staying?"
"We'll be at an exclusive little place, it's on the Tiber and it's called Teste."
"Stop! Don't go any further. I know that place. Everyone thinks it’s going to be something swish and exclusive but that's nonsense; in truth the place is the pits."
"But we're planning to go to the Vatican and might possibly get to see the Pope."
"Ha! That's rich," huffed the hairdresser. "You and a zillion others! He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this trip of yours. You're gonna need it."
A month later, the woman came in again and the hairdresser asked her about her vacation.
"Oh, it was just joyful!" exclaimed the woman; "not only were we on time in one of United's brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class.
"The food and drinks were wonderful, and I had a handsome young flight attendant who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was lovely! They'd just finished a $10m refurbishment job, and now it's the best hotel in the city. They were also overbooked, so they gave us the owner's suite, and at no additional charge!"
"Hmm," muttered the hairdresser, "that may be so, but I'll just bet you didn't get to see the Pope."
"Actually, we were quite lucky because, as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard came up and said that the Pope likes to meet a quota of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to wait in his private room, he would come and greet me. Sure enough, 7 or 8 minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! Then I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me..."
"Oh, really? What did he say?"
He said: "Who fucked up your hair?"