VINTAGE HUMOUR
The sad demise of the vineyard's stalwart wine taster
sparked the search for a successor. A drunken, down-at-heel
applicant arrived to apply for the position.
The manager and his secretary decided to try to find a way
to declare him unqualified. They gave him a drink to assess:
'It's a muscat; three years old, grown on the north slope,
matured in steel containers, low grade but palatable.'
Astonished, they had to concede: 'That's absolutely correct.'
Another glass ...
'It's a cabarnet, eight years old, matured in oak barrels
at eight degrees. Requires three more years for best results.'
A third glass ...
'It's a pirot blanc champagne, high grade and exclusive,'
the drunk (by now he certainly should be) asserted confidently.
The manager shot his secretary a knowing look; she left the room
and returned with a glass of urine. The drunk sipped it:
'It's blonde, 26 years old, three months pregnant, and if you
don't give me the job I'll name the father.'
