In the barber’s shop two customers are just at the end of their haircuts.
In the first chair is the Sar’nt Major.
“Like anything on it, Sir? Says the barber.
“Not bloody likely” says the Sar’nt Major. “My wife’ll say I smell like a Turkish brothel.”
“Anything on it mate?” says the barber to Private Bloggs.
“Yea, slap it on. My missus don’t know what a Turkish brothel smells like.”
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