A unicorn walked into a bar. “An ale, please,” it said.
The barman pulled out a fresh glass and began to pull the pint, tittering as he did so. Should he do it? Shouldn’t he? As he placed the pint on a beer mat on the bar top, he said it. “Why the long face?” He managed to say it without bursting out laughing.
The unicorn paused, cocking its head to one side before rolling its eyes. “Don’t even get me started – I’ve had the day from hell. Just look at the state of my fetlocks.”
The barman looked, pulled a serious face and nodded in apparent sympathy.
“Three barbers I visited before I could find someone willing to trim them for me. And I’m not that impressed with that they did. I didn’t tip. And then, guess what happened next? When I finished up I decided to take a shortcut through the forest and saw a lady sat naked under a tree. Well, I went up to her – beautiful she was, beautiful. Lovely red hair. It came really far down, covering her tits – cracking, they were. A real handful, know what I mean?”
The barman nodded wistfully.
“Normally I don’t like strangers. But she had a real innocent look in her eye. I went up to her – despite my fetlocks looking like I’ve been through a hedge backwards we got chatting. We were getting on really well when…”
“Did she … give … you … the horn?” said the barman with a snigger.
The unicorn paused. “Well – I said she was fit, didn’t I? Anyway, I was about to move in with my killer chat up line when suddenly these two guys spring from behind a pomegranate bush with a large net. I managed to give them the slip and here I am. What a fucking nightmare.”
“You didn’t escape on a one-wheeled bicycle, did you?”
The unicorn stared at him. “Do you think I haven’t heard it all before? I know what you’ve been trying to do – have a joke at my expense. And I’m bloody sick of it. It’s … it’s … cornuphobia everywhere you look these days,” he said, slamming some money down on the bar and walking out.
As the Unicorn walked out, a horse pushed its way past and walked up to the bar. A big grin broke out on the barman’s face.
“Why the … oh I give up.”