Friday Joke: Poor Alf
A travelling salesman is staying touring through a very remote area, and is struggling to find somewhere to stay. Eventually, he comes across a farmhouse and speaks to the farmer. In exchange for a little extra money, the farmer is happy to cook him some dinner and provide him with a bed for the evening.
Sitting back after a marvellous freshly-cooked meal however, the man starts to feel he’s missing something and asks his host if he knows of any way that he could obtain some “companionship” for the evening.
“Don’t rightly know I could help you there sir,” says the farmer “We don’t have none of yon nightclubs out here. There ain’t really much business for the women like that. Mind you, I suppose I could always arrange for you to see old Alf…”
“Alf ?” asks the man.
“That’s him.”
“Well, I hardly think that’s … um …” he paused. “How much does he charge?”
The farmer scratched his head. “You’d need ninety quid for an hour.”
“Ninety quid?”
“We ‘as to pay the local magistrate thirty quid you see,” says the farmer. “He doesn’t approve of that sort of thing.”
“So that’s sixty quid for Alf?”
“Not exactly. You see, the local policeman don’t approve of that sort of thing either, so we got to give him thirty quid to turn a blind eye.”
“So Alf just gets thirty quid?” says the dumbfounded salesman.
“Well, not exactly sir. You see we’ve got to pay Gareth, and Arthur and Bobby a tenner each to hold him down. You see, Alf don’t approve of it neither…”
Hello. I am 
Poor Alf