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An out of work pianist with Tourettes Syndrome is strolling around the
streets and bars of Dublin one unemployed afternoon. Walking down Dawson
Street he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window 'Pianist wanted for
evening performances'.

'Fu**ing get in there you c*nt!' he says to himself and goes to the bar.
'Get the fu**ing manager of this pigs s*it middle class w*nk hole please
you c*nt', he says to a somewhat startled barman. The barman however
obliges and his manager comes upstairs. 'Can I help you sir?' he says

'Yes you can you fat piece of s*it, I saw your poxy advert in the c*nting
window and I'm here to audition.....w*nker.'

The manager is naturally put off by the man's abrasive manner but his dire
need for a top class pianist forces him to agree to an audition. The
first tune the Pianist plays is an uplifting jazzy number, not too
involving, yet utterly melodic. At the end the thrilled barman cries,
'Wonderful, wonderful. What was that called?'

'That song, you big nosed tw*t, was called "Excuse me prime minister but I
just j*zzed in your daughter's eye, and now the c*nts blind...'

'Oh' says the manager 'err, can you play me another. Something a little
less "lively".'

'W*nker..' interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad
which leaves the manager in tears. The manager through his salty teardrops
asks him the title.

'That little number was called "Sometimes when you do a bird up the sh*t
box you get cr*p on your bell end.'

'I see' says the manager, 'Have you got any songs with less offensive
titles?'

'Well there's my jazz number "Do you want me to split your r*ngpiece", or
there's the epic "I don't care if you're older my dear, you've still got
nice jugs".

'Look' says the manager interrupting, 'I think you're a superb pianist but
the title of your songs are a little "racy". I will hire you on the
condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience.'

'F*ck it' says the pianist 'Why not'.

On his first night everything is going superbly the crowd are lapping up
his repertoire and his silence is being received as modesty. The only
thing putting off the pianist is that in the front row there is a gorgeous
blonde in a black evening dress with a split up the side revealing the
tops of her stockings, and a plunging neckline which boasts a proud and
inviting cleavage. During the interval the pianist has got such a stonking
hard on that he decides to go to the bog and knock one out.

Just as he has shot his muck he hears himself being re-introduced over the
tannoy, so he rushes back to the stage and finishes his act. After the
show he is at the bar relaxing when the blonde approaches him.'Hi' she
says. 'Hello' he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives.

She leans over and whispers in his ear, 'Do you know your c*ck is hanging
out of your trousers, and sp*nk is dribbling onto your shoes?'

'Know it?'

says the pianist putting his beer on the bar confidently,

'I f*cking wrote it !!!'