If you can tell this after happy hour, you haven't had enough to drink!

Peter Peterson lives in Padstow Parade, Picton and worked at the Picton Pickle Processing Plant as a pickle packer.

One afternoon while pulling on a pint at the Picton Pub, his best pal, Paul, the Publican said, "You look a bit troubled old pal, got a problem.

"Yep" said Paul, "I have this persistent urge to place my p#*is into the pickle slicker"

Well Paul, as you could imagine, was horrified. "You can't do that old pal, think of the pain!"

Several days had past when Paul, polishing pint glasses with a polisher, noticed Peter propped in the corner. "God" said Paul, "You look worse, if that's possible, what's the problem this time"

Peter putting his head down, said, "I did it, I finally did it, I placed my p#*is in the pickle slicer!"

"God help me" said Paul, " What happend?"

"I got the sack" said Peter

"Got the sack, is that all?" said Paul

"No" said Peter, "the pickle slicer got the sack too!"