Three people walked into a pub. Or maybe it was a bar. Perhaps it was a saloon, or a salon. Maybe they were just getting their nails done before they went to …

‘Three people?’

Yes, we’re being politically correct. They were going to a fancy dress party.

“A fancy dress party? Is that where everyone wears black ties and pretty gowns and stuff?”

No, it’s where one dresses oneself to resemble something or someone else.

‘Oh, okay, so it’s fake.’

No, it’s not fake. It’s a party.

“Right. So, are we talking political parties, then? Are they going to a political party?”

No, they are going to a fancy dress party, and they’re dressed to resemble emotions.

“Is that like emoticons?”

‘No, it’s like something one feels, right? Are you feeling me up?’

No, I’m talking about feelings.

‘Is that like feelers? So, bugs, right?’

“Does this have a point? I’m kinda getting sick of this joke.”

‘He’s not well. We should take him to the doctor’s.’

Did you want to hear this joke or not?

“I can’t hear the joke. I don’t have any ears. Maybe you should write it down.”

The first person writes the joke down.

“I can’t see that,” says the second person. “Maybe you should whisper it to me.”

‘Oh, that’s funny,’ says the last person. ‘Pity you can’t say that in public.’

Where do we go from here, asked no one. We can’t go to their house. They resemble donkey sit-upons. We can’t go to their house either/either. They’re personally affronted. We can’t go down there either. Everyone is upside down and everyone else knows they don’t exist anyway.

‘What’s personally affronted mean?’

‘It’s wot.’

“Whut?”

No, what.

‘Who?’

What was that joke about again? It’s on you. It’s on you.

“I don’t know what that means? Can you explain it to me?”

Apparently, I can’t. So, that’s the end of the story.