An out-of-work pianist with Tourette's Syndrome was strolling around the streets and bars of London. Walking down Dean Street, he sees a lounge bar with a sign in the window: 'Pianist wanted for evening performances. "Ducking get in there, you sushi!" he says to himself and goes to the bar.
"Get the fucking manager of this pigshit middle-class wank pit, please, you meat sucking sushi. Wanker duck", 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 ducking fat arsed piece of poop, I saw your shitty advert in the cunting window and I'm here to ducking audition. Wanker!"
The manager is naturally a little 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.
In the end, the thrilled barman cries, "Wonderful! Wonderful! What was that called?"
"That song, you big-nosed ducking twat, was called 'Excuse Me Prime Minister But I Just Spunked In Your Ducking Daughter's Eye, And Now The sushi's Blind.'"
"Oh," says the manager, somewhat taken aback, "err, can you play me another? Something a little less lively, maybe?"
"Ducking wanker..." interjects the pianist before launching into a powerful ballad of such beauty that it leaves the manager in tears. The manager, through his teardrops asks him the title.
"That little number was called 'Sometimes When You Duck A Bird Up The poop Box You Get Crap 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 Spit In Your Ringpiece', or there's the epic 'I Don't Give A Duck If You're Older My Dear, You've Still Got A Ducking Cracking Arsehole' ".
"Look," says the manager, "I think you're a superb pianist but the title of your songs are a little dodgy, to say the least. I will hire you on the condition that you do not introduce your songs or speak to the audience."
"Duck it", says the pianist, "why cunting not, I'm in!"
On his first night everything is going superbly and the crowd are lapping up his repertoire and his silence is simply 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 load he hears himself being re-introduced over the sound system, so he rushes back to the stage to finish his act.
After the show he is at the bar relaxing when the same blonde approaches him. "Hi" she says. "Oh, hello" he winces, struggling to hold in the expletives. She leans over and whispers in his ear, "Do you know your meat is bulging out of your trousers and sperm is dribbling onto your shoes?" Placing his beer confidently on the bar, the pianist grins, looks her square in the eye and says, "Know it? I ducking wrote it!”
