Jokes under Illness and mortality > Tourette's

A man owns a swishy cocktail bar and is looking to hire a pianist. He gets a bloke in who's got Tourette's, but he can play classics, blues, jazz, "and I fucking write my own cunting stuff as well", he says.

He plays this really haunting gentle piece.

"What do you call that?"
"The smell of my wife's cunt. Here's another fucker."
And it's another great piece of music,

"That was: my cock's up your arse, now w [...]

A man owns a swishy cocktail bar and is looking to hire a pianist. He gets a bloke in who's got Tourette's, but he can play classics, blues, jazz, "and I fucking write my own cunting stuff as well", he says.

He plays this really haunting gentle piece.

"What do you call that?"
"The smell of my wife's cunt. Here's another fucker."
And it's another great piece of music,

"That was: my cock's up your arse, now wriggle bitch" And so on.

He was the best - so good that, reluctantly, the bar owner takes him on but on the condition that he doesn't speak to the customers at all. The waiters will take requests to avoid him talking with them. It works well and trade is up.

One night the pianist can see a girl facing him in a short skirt and no knickers. After half an hour of looking up seeing that, he gets so horny that he takes a break to have a wank.

He takes a while - there is no music.

The bar manager starts looking for him, bashes on the toilet door and says, "Get out there and play now or you don't get paid for tonight."

So he rushes his wank, goes back and starts playing.

One of the waiters sees he hasn't zipped up and rushes over.

"Hey do you know your flies are undone, your cock's hanging out and there's come stains all down your leg?"

"Know it? I fucking wrote it!"