I was in my local pub the other night having a
lemonade (in a dirty glass), when SALMA HAYEK
sidles up to me and asks me for my telephone number.
"You're married, Salma (to a multi-millionaire, no less -
I wonder what she saw in him?) so it wouldn't be
right to give you my number!" says I.
"Number - now!" she says, whipping out a dirty
great gun from under her t-shirt. Well, who am I to
argue with a lady? Especially when she's toting such im-
pressive weaponry (in more ways than one). So I handed
her my mobile number, and no doubt she'll be calling me
sometime soon. I'll just let it go to voicemail 'though -
there's far too many women in my life at the
moment, fighting for my attention.
(Nurse, is it time for my medicine yet?)
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