Barber joke

A man getting his hair cut tells the barber that he is going to Italy on holiday.
“That’s great,” says the barber, “the weather is wonderful, the women are beautiful and the wine is superb. You might even see the Pope.”
A few weeks later the man is back and he says to the barber
“You were wrong, the weather was cold, it rained every day, I never saw the sun, the women were all fat, coarse and ugly and the wine was disgusting, just over-rated fruit juice. The Pope spoke to me, though.”
“How did you get to meet the Pope?” asks the barber.
The man says “I went to the Vatican and he was walking past in a procession. He stopped and asked me ‘Where did you get that dreadful haircut?’”
It reminds me of the time a grizzly grunt walks into the barbers.

"How much for a haircut?"

"Fifteen quid."

"Well how much for a shave?"

"Ten quid."

"Righto then, shave me fucking head."
Which reminds me, I was once told a roundabout way to start a fight in a German pub. Forgive my level of German, I can't remember it so well now.
You ask a local "Wiefiel kostet im Deutchland fur haareschneiden?"
(How much does it cost for a haircut in Germany?) Regardless of his answer, you then say:
"Es kostet fier marks, eine fur Ecke"
(It costs 4 marks, one for each corner, implying that Germans have box heads.)
Cue German fist in your face, and off you go...
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