Whatâs orange and sounds like a parrot,
A carrot 
How many Surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?
Fish.
Have we gone back to the 1970s already? I remember that from school. Brexit hasnât happened has it?
It goes even further back than the first Common Market referendum, so pre Brentry. Itâs Rag Mag standard fodder.
The Story of Pierre the Famous French Fighter Pilot.
Pierre had had a particularly shit day.
He had only been issued with a brand new Niueport only a week ago, and today, he had managed not only to fail to shoot down the Red Baron, but had been shot down himself, and indignity of indignities, he had to make an emergency landing at a British airfield.
Les Rosbifs were very nice about it and all that, but still.
The inevitable interview without coffee with his CO didnât go well. Unsurprisingly really, it was the third very expensive fighter plane heâd lost to Baron Von Richthoven in the last month, and his seventh since heâd joined the air force. He felt lucky that he was grounded for a month rather than having the cost of his plane added to his already considerable mess billâŠ
So, having a month of bugger all else to do, Pierre headed off to Paris to drown his sorrows.
As he was strolling through Montmartre (in full dress uniform, with all his medals prominently displayed, naturellementâŠ), he met a lovely young lady, Marie Claire, a vision of French beauty, who fell under his not inconsiderable charmâŠ
Thus followed three and a half weeks of gentlemanly wooing, which culminated in Pierre inviting Marie Claire for a picnic in a secluded corner of the Bois de Boulogne.
Things were going swimmingly, the fresh oysters led to Marie Claire becoming very accommodatingâŠ
âOh, Pierre, my sweet, kiss meâŠâ
Whereupon Pierre dipped his finger in a glass of a rather decent St Ămillion 1899 and painted her lips with it, and kissed her with a passion sheâd never experienced before.
âSacre Bleu, mon amour, that was fantastic, but why the wine?â
âI am Pierre, ze famous French Fighter Pilot, and when I eat red meat, I drink red wineâŠâ
âOh, Pierre, zat was fantastiqueâŠâ and opening her blouse, she breathed âKiss me lower, my darlingâŠâ
And Pierre poured a glass of Dom Perignon over her, pert, heaving, ivory coloured breasts and proceeded to appreciate the fruits that nature had seen fit to endow Marie Claire with.
This had the desired effect and Marie Claire said" Mon Dieu, amazing, but why the Champagne? "
âI am Pierre, ze famous French Fighter Pilot and when I eat white meat, I drink white wineâŠâ
âI cannot resist my sweetâ said Marie Claire, as she lifted he skirt, âKiss me lowerâŠâ
So, Pierre poured a glass of brandy over Marie Claires ladygarden, flicked his lighter, and set fire to it and buried his face in the conflagrationâŠ
âVous brĂ»lĂ© mon putain de chatte!!! Why, oh why would you do such a thing?â
âI am Pierre, ze famous French Fighter Pilot, and when I go down, I go down in flames!!!â
"
Consider yourself reported for posting something vaguely funny (if exceedingly antiquated) in this pit of excrescence.
Mods! Ban Him!!
Thinking about it 
You must have been reading a different post to me 
It was the cod-French that added the petite frisson of humour.
If your musical preferences are anything to go by, I would expect a *decision around 2025.
*Only a preliminary judgement, of course.
No point rushing these things. If itâs worth doingâŠ
Seeing as that joke, in various forms, has only been around since 1916, I think youâre rushing him a bit.
You forgot a bit so I am helping you out.
Thanks. I think 
No problem. Happy to help.
Heâll get to it after side A is done.
Man will walk on Mars before side A is finishedâŠ