A bloke sees a sign in front of an average suburban house on the outskirts of London: Talking Dog for Sale He rings the bell and the owner tells him the dog is in the back garden. Our chappie goes into the back garden and sees a black mutt just sitting there. "Um......you talk, then?" he asks somewhat nervously. "Indeed." the dog replies. "Crikey! So, what's your story?" The dog looks up and says, "Well, I discovered my gift of talking at a young age and I wanted to help the government; I told MI5 about my gift, and in no time they had me jetting from country to country, sitting in rooms with spies and world leaders, because no one would guess a dog would be eavesdropping. I was one of their most valuable spies eight years running." The jetting around really tired me out, and I knew I wasn't getting any younger and I wanted to settle down. So I signed up for a job at the airport to do some undercover security work, mostly wandering near suspicious characters and just listening in." "I uncovered all sorts of international illegal shenanagins and was awarded a batch of medals. Had a wife, a mess of puppies, and now I'm just retired." Our chap is amazed. He goes back in and asks the owner what he wants for the dog. The owner says, "Ten quid." Our bloke says, "What? This dog is amazing! Why on earth are you selling him so cheaply?" > > > > > > > >"'Cause he's a fuc*ing liar. He never done any of that stuff!"