Hells Angels

A little old lady decides to join the Hell’s Angels motorcycle gang. So one day she knocks on their clubhouse entrance.
A big, hairy, bearded biker with tattoos all over his arms pokes his head round the door.
"I want to join your club," she says.
Amused, the biker humours her, claiming she needs to meet certain requirements to be part of their gang.
"Do you have a motorcycle?" he says.
"Yup,"" she replies. "It’s parked right over there."
Both of them look round to see a flamed, black Harley chopper in the driveway.
"Do you drink?" he continues.
"Oh yes, like a fish," she says. "I’ll drink any man in you club under the table."
"Do you smoke?" "Smoke?" she hoots.
"Damn right I smoke. I smoke like a chimney. In fact I smoke three packs a day, as well as three joints, and a couple of cigars in the evening, just before I raise hell on the pool table."
"Wow," says the biker, impressed.
"You sound like one bad momma. But tell me: have you ever been picked up by the fuzz?"
"Nope" says the old lady, "but I’ve been swung round by the nipples a few times."

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