A man named Fred was well into middle age, and had never had a "relationship"
with a woman. He was unattractive, poor, and had little you
could call personality. His strong moral upbringing prevented him from
paying for sex. He had all but resolved to spend the rest of his life a
frustrated virgin, when he read an article in a travel magazine about the
wild women of the French Riviera. A plan formed in Fred's mind; for three
years he saved every spare penny until he could afford a short, one-week
vacation on the Riviera.
He arrived at his hotel and nervously changed into his beachwear: baggy
bermuda shorts, a white sleeveless T-shirt, brown shoes, brown sox. He
walked on the beach, his head swiveling from one eye-popping, bikini-clad
beauty to another. But none gave him the slightest glance. After
patrolling the beach until dusk, he noticed a Frenchman, also middle-aged,
surrounded by adoring young women. Cornering the Frenchman, Fred blurted
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out his sad tale.
"I came here hoping to meet women," Fred explained to the sympathetic
Frenchman, "And I only have 5 days to go. What can I do to be more like
you?" The Frenchman looked him up and down, and said, "Monsieur, it eez
your costume. You must buy the tiny men's bikini like mine, some sandals,
some chic sunglasses, and voila! you will soon meet many women."
So Fred returned to his hotel room, ran down to the shops on the street
level, and bought everything that the Frenchman had recommended. The next
morning he struggled into his very tight and very tiny new bathing suit,
donned his sandals and sunglasses, sucked in his gut and went down to the
beach. This time, as he strolled by the many beauties sunning themselves,
a few heads turned, and a few titters of laughter seemed directed his way.
Upset, he soon found the Frenchman again and, displaying his new outfit,
complained that women were still largely ignoring him. "What am I doing
wrong?" Fred asked.
"Well Monsieur," responded the Frenchman, "It eez a delicate subject. You
seem to be somewhat lacking in a certain department valued highly by our
young ladies. What I suggest you do is to go to the supermarket, buy a
potato, and stick it in your bathing suit." Although Fred thought this was
an odd suggestion, he was getting desperate, and decided he would try
anything, given his short time remaining.
The next morning, he put on his new costume, Then shoved a long, curved,
uncooked potato into his trunks. He went out on the beach, this time
getting a strong reaction. Women everywhere on the beach were elbowing
each other, pointing at Fred, and whispering together. Frantic, Fred ran
up to the Frenchman.
"NOW what am I doing wrong!?" he screamed. The Frenchman glanced at him
and replied in a frosty voice, "Monsieur, zee potato goes in zee front."
with a woman. He was unattractive, poor, and had little you
could call personality. His strong moral upbringing prevented him from
paying for sex. He had all but resolved to spend the rest of his life a
frustrated virgin, when he read an article in a travel magazine about the
wild women of the French Riviera. A plan formed in Fred's mind; for three
years he saved every spare penny until he could afford a short, one-week
vacation on the Riviera.
He arrived at his hotel and nervously changed into his beachwear: baggy
bermuda shorts, a white sleeveless T-shirt, brown shoes, brown sox. He
walked on the beach, his head swiveling from one eye-popping, bikini-clad
beauty to another. But none gave him the slightest glance. After
patrolling the beach until dusk, he noticed a Frenchman, also middle-aged,
surrounded by adoring young women. Cornering the Frenchman, Fred blurted
Get 15% off funny & offensive t-shirts
out his sad tale.
"I came here hoping to meet women," Fred explained to the sympathetic
Frenchman, "And I only have 5 days to go. What can I do to be more like
you?" The Frenchman looked him up and down, and said, "Monsieur, it eez
your costume. You must buy the tiny men's bikini like mine, some sandals,
some chic sunglasses, and voila! you will soon meet many women."
So Fred returned to his hotel room, ran down to the shops on the street
level, and bought everything that the Frenchman had recommended. The next
morning he struggled into his very tight and very tiny new bathing suit,
donned his sandals and sunglasses, sucked in his gut and went down to the
beach. This time, as he strolled by the many beauties sunning themselves,
a few heads turned, and a few titters of laughter seemed directed his way.
Upset, he soon found the Frenchman again and, displaying his new outfit,
complained that women were still largely ignoring him. "What am I doing
wrong?" Fred asked.
"Well Monsieur," responded the Frenchman, "It eez a delicate subject. You
seem to be somewhat lacking in a certain department valued highly by our
young ladies. What I suggest you do is to go to the supermarket, buy a
potato, and stick it in your bathing suit." Although Fred thought this was
an odd suggestion, he was getting desperate, and decided he would try
anything, given his short time remaining.
The next morning, he put on his new costume, Then shoved a long, curved,
uncooked potato into his trunks. He went out on the beach, this time
getting a strong reaction. Women everywhere on the beach were elbowing
each other, pointing at Fred, and whispering together. Frantic, Fred ran
up to the Frenchman.
"NOW what am I doing wrong!?" he screamed. The Frenchman glanced at him
and replied in a frosty voice, "Monsieur, zee potato goes in zee front."