Score: 4 / 5
One day a duck comes into a pub. It flies up onto the bar and asks for a double Tia Maria. It has a fiver tucked under its wing, which it gives the publican, telling him to keep the change.
The duck comes in every day after that, for three or four weeks, always with a fiver to pay for the drink and telling the publican to keep the change. As the duck is manifestly able to speak, the publican eventually decides to engage it in conversation.
“You’re a duck, aren’t you?” he says.
“I’d have thought that was obvious,” the duck replies.
“Of course,” says the publican with embarrassment. “You’re from around here?”
“No, I’m originally from a place outside Bristol, by the Severn. I work as a plasterer, and follow the work around the country. I’m in a team of chaps renovating that façade of Georgian town houses, just behind the Waitrose car park.”
A fortnight later, when the duck comes in for his usual, the publican says: “Here! I’ve just heard that a circus is coming here next Friday. Why don’t you go round there to see if you can get work with them?”
“There’s no point,” the duck says. “What would they want with a plasterer?”
