The Ageing Rockers’ Special Executive

It was without doubt an absolutely stunning view. A full moon had appeared amongst a myriad of twinkling stars as if by magic, and the crowd roared. It was of course the day of the 24-hour televised ARSE concert and Woody (Rock God) Willie had just turned his back on the audience and dropped his kegs, to the smiling approval of his fossilised chums in the vast, smug band.
“Hello, is that the ARSE donation line?”
“Yes, it is. Please state your pledge.”
“I pledge never to watch this self-indulgent garbage ever again.”
“Pardon?”
“And, by the way, if Woody (Rock God) Willie doesn’t retire soon, he’ll be listed under palaeontology, not pop.”
“I’m afraid that’s an ageist comment sir, and I should warn you that this call is being recorded.”
“My objections are not in regard to his age directly, but rather his complete inability to sing in tune anymore”.
“I’m afraid that’s a slanderous comment sir and I should warn you that this call is being recorded. As a matter of fact, Mr. Willie could never sing in tune to start with.”
“Well…..he never could play a musical instrument that’s for sure, apart from that one time he stretched some chewing gum between his teeth and plucked it like a Jew’s harp.”
“I’m afraid that’s a racist remark sir, and I should warn you that this call is being recorded. Now, can I have your credit card number please?”
“Is there anything I can say which isn’t classed as discrimination and prejudice?” I asked.
“Providing you humbly accept the axiomatic de rigueur principle that all human beings are equally intelligent, equally talented, equally valuable, equally attractive and equally deserving – yes…… In fact, you’re allowed to talk endlessly about that.”
(pause)
“Sir?”
(silence)
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