| Suspend your disbelief for this one....
There's this pub where all the customers are little squares of black tarmac. They're all standing around having a nice drink and a chat when a red piece of tarmac walks in. The bar suddenly empties, the little black squares of tarmac either scurry out of the room or dive for cover and the barman is left trembling nervously behind the bar. The red piece of tarmac orders a whisky, down's it in one, slams the glass down and walks out of the pub.
"Thank God he's gone" says one piece of black tarmac to the other as they come out from behind the curtains. "Why's that" says the other "Why is everybody so scared of him?"...
"'cos he's a bloody cyclepath" |