Ok THAT title would have been a riot when you were 10, admit it!
One day, I looked at my wife and said, "Honey, 25 years ago, we had a cheap apartment, a cheap car, slept on a sofa bed and watched a 10 inch black and white TV, but I got to sleep every night with a hot 25 year old blonde.
Now, we have a nice house, nice car, big bed and plasma screen TV, but I'm sleeping with a 50 year old woman. It seems to me that you are not holding up your side of things."
My wife is a very reasonable woman. She told me to go out and find a hot 25 year old blonde, and she would make sure that I would once again be living in a cheap apartment, driving a cheap car, sleeping on a sofa bed.
And of course you have to follow that one with a story about a farmer and a lawyer and hilarity shall ensue.
A Lawyer goes shooting and brings down a marvellous pheasant right on Farmer Joe's field...
Knowing the law, he goes over to the farmhouse and knocks on the door, farmer Joe opens, and the Lawyer speaks,
"Excuse me sir, but I'm a lawyer on a shoot, and I happen to have brought down a fairly marvellous pheasant over in your field yonder. Being a lawyer (I happen to have attended an extremely prestigious school and am partner in a large firm, we mostly deal in corporate you know but...) anyway, I wonder if you wouldn't be a decent little chap about it and let me have it. Being a lawyer, I know the law, that I'm to ask the landowners permission before I retrieve game."
Farmer Joe looks over the lawyer's shoulder and sees the pheasant.
"Well... it is a pretty nice one. Tell you what, we can play Ro-sham-Bo for it. Winner keeps it"
The Lawyer is taken aback
"RO-SHAM-BO? I'm afraid in all my years in prestigious law schools, I'm afraid I never encountered the concept. What are the rules?
"Well," the farmer began, "we each take turns kicking each other in the bollocks, the one who gives up first loses."
The lawyer doesn't like the sound of this at all, but he really wants the pheasant.
"Alright, I'll do it. Err... whom goes first?"
"I kick first cos its my land" says the farmer, simply.
The lawyer consents to stand in the porch, legs apart, and braces himself. Farmer Joe takes several steps back, breaks in to a run, and then swings his boot full force at the lawyer's crotch.
Lifted full off the ground, the lawyer crumples into a yelping, weeping heap, and takes a couple of minutes to get his bearings back, sobbing and cursing on the floor, before slowly straining to stand.
"Very well." Remarks the lawyer, "My turn."
"Nah, you can keep the pheasant" replies farmer Joe, and slams the door.