The flea
A flea went into a travel agent's and asked about a week's holiday in the sunshine. "I've got just the thing for you" said the agent. "A week in Nice, in Ringo Starr's hair". "That sounds good" said the flea. He paid up and hopped off to Nice. Four days later he was back. "Terrible" he said. "The man never went outdoors once. He stayed inside, banging away on his drums, shaking his head from side to side the whole time. I got a terrible migraine. See if you've got something else". The agent looked through his books. "What about this?" he said. "A week in Monte Carlo, in Omar Sharif's moustache" "Oh yes" said the flea, paid up and hopped off. Four days later he was back. "Awful" he said. "He was in the casino gambling all the time. No sunshine at all. And what was worse, he smoked these terrible cigars. I was coughing and gasping something awful. You'll have to do better than this". "Mmm" said the travel agent. "It's getting a bit late in the season... Here we are! Just the thing for you. A week in St Tropez in Brigitte Bardot's muff". "Wonderful" said the flea. "She sunbathes in the nude. Should be just what I want". Four days - he was back, shaking his head. "I can't believe it" he said. "At first it was great. She was lying on the beach, nothing on. Lovely warm sunshine, radio alongside her playing nice music. And then, all of a sudden, I was back in Omar Sharif's moustache!"