A guy walks into a bar and sits down.
He starts dialling numbers like there’s a telephone in his hand, then puts his palm up against his cheek and begins talking.
Suspicious, the bartender walks over and tells him this is a very tough neighbourhood and he doesn’t need any trouble here.
The guy says, “You don’t understand. I’m very hi-tech. I had a phone installed in my hand because I was tired of carrying the cellular.”
The bartender says “Prove it.” The guy dials up a number and hands his hand to the bartender. The bartender talks into the hand and carries on a conversation.
“That’s incredible!” says the bartender. “I would never have believed it!” “Yeah”, said the guy, “I can keep in touch with my broker, my wife, you name it.
By the way, where is the men’s room?” The bartender directs him to the men’s room. The guy goes in and 5, 10, 20 minutes go by and he doesn’t return.
Fearing the worst given the neighbourhood, the bartender goes into the men’s room to check on the guy.
The guy is spread-eagled up against the wall. His pants are pulled down and he has a roll of toilet paper up his butt.
“Oh my god!” said the bartender. “Did they rob you? Are you hurt?”
The guy turns and says: “No, no, I’m ok. I’m just waiting for a fax.”
