DON’T BLAME ME, BLAME MADDAD

A young girl started work in the village chemist shop. She got on okay, but was very shy about having to sell condoms. The owner was going on holiday for a couple of days and asked if she would be willing to run the shop on her own. So she confided in him her worries about selling the contraceptives.

"Look," he said, "My regular customers don't ask for condoms. They'll ask for a 310 [small], a 320 [medium] or a 330 [large]. The word condom won't even be used."

The first day was fine but on the second day a big black guy came into the shop, put out his hand and said, "350." The girl panicked. She phoned the owner on his mobile and told him of her predicament.

"Go back in and check if he has a yellow bucket hanging between his legs," her boss told her.

She peeped through the door and saw the yellow bucket hanging between his legs.

"Yes!" she said, "He's got one hanging there!"

The boss said, "Go back in and give him £3.50. He's the window cleaner."

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DON’T BLAME ME, BLAME MADDAD — 2 Comments