Pierre, a brave little French fighter pilot, takes his girlfriend Marie out for a pleasant little picnic by the River Seine. It's a beautiful day, and love is in the air. Marie leans over to Pierre and says: "Pierre, kiss me!" Pierre grabs a bottle of Merlot wine and splashes it on Marie's lips.
"What are you doing, Pierre?" says the startled Marie.
"I am Pierre ze fighter pilot! When I have ze red meat, I have ze red wine!"
She smiles and they start kissing. When things began to heat up a little, Marie says, "Pierre, kiss me lower." Pierre tears her blouse open, grabs a bottle of Chardonnay and starts pouring it all over her breasts.
"Pierre! What are you doing?" asks the bewildered Marie.
"I am Pierre ze fighter pilot! When I have ze white meat, I have ze white wine!"
They resume their passionate interlude and things really steam up. Marie leans close to his ear and whispers, "Pierre, kiss me lower!" Pierre rips off her underwear, grabs a bottle of Cognac and pours it in her lap. He then strikes a match and lights it on fire!
Marie shrieks and dives into the river. Standing waist deep in the water, Marie throws her arms upwards and screams furiously,
"PIERRE, WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
Our hero stands up defiantly and says, "I am Pierre ze fighter pilot! If I go down, I go down in flames!"
EDIT:
Pannaanpas vielä toinenkin. Sori on vähän pitkä ja lontooksi mutta koittakaa kestää...
This bloke with Tourette's Syndrome walks into the most exclusive
restaurant in town;
"Where's the pissing, motherfucking manager, you cock sucking arsewipe?"
he enquires of one of the waiters.
The waiter is taken aback and replies;
"Excuse me sir but could you 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-fucking manager of this bastard place?"
"Yes sir, I am" replies the manager, "but I would prefer if you could
refrain from speaking such profanities in this, a private
restaurant".
"Fuck off" replies the bloke "and where's the fucking piano?"
"Pardon?" says the manager.
"Fucking deaf as well, are we? You sniveling little piece of shit, show me
your cunting piano".
"Ah", 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 fucking 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 tried to shag your missus on the sofa but the springs kept hurting my
dick," 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 washing machine but I got my balls 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 the manager has ever heard,
"And what's this called?" asks the manager.
"As I fuck 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 the pianist, is the most gorgeous blonde he has ever laid his
eyes on.
She wearing an almost see through dress, her breasts are almost falling
out of her black lace bra, the skimpy little "G" string
she's wearing is doing very little to conceal her ample charms.
She's sitting there with her legs slightly open, sucking suggestively on
asparagus shoots as the butter dribbles down her chin.
The image is too much for the bloke and he scurries off to the Gents to
furiously pat the cheetah.
He's tugging away feverishly when he hears the manager's voice.
"Where's that bastard pianist?"
He has time to relieve himself, 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 blond steps up and walks over to the piano, leans over, boobs in his
face and whispers in his ear,
"Do you know your knob and bollocks are hanging out of your trousers and
dripping spunk on your shoes?"
The bloke replies "Know it? I fucking wrote it!"