Fred the barman is just standing idly behind the bar one monday afternoon, drying some glasses when a stunning redhead walks up to him. She leans over the bar — showing a considerable amount of cleavage in her low-cut top — and reaches out to touch him.

“Are you the landlord?”, she asks, idly running her fingers through Fred’s thick brown hair.

Fred gulps, and only just remembers to look at her face a split second before answering. “Um, no. I just work here. J-J-John’s the landlord.”

“Mmm. I see.”, says the woman, caressing Fred’s beard with both hands. “Can I talk to him?”

“Erm… no”, says Fred, now turning a little pink and starting to get rather hot under the collar. “He’s not actually in tonight.”

“Well in that case …”, purred the woman, running her hands through Fred’s brown hair once more, “…do you think you could give him a message?”

“Sure! Anything to help!”

“In that case, could you tell him,” the woman said as she suddenly stopped stroking Fred and made to leave, “— that there’s no toilet roll in the ladies’ loos.”