Stockbrokers . . .

Here's another one from my friend in Lunnon, Mr. Gallagher, who is a stockbroker (remember, kiddies, the English drive on the wrong side of the road . . .)

This broker gets a new Porche, and, even though he would normally never drive to the City, he does on this day, so he can show off his new car . . .

He pulls up in front of his building, and, just as he opens the door to get out, a huge lorry roars around the corner, and rips the door right off.

He is just appalled, almost speechless. A police constable comes up to try to calm him, but he is just beside himself . . .

"But look at it, i don't care how much you pay, this will never be right again, it just won't be the same, the car is ruined, ruined i tell you ! ! ! "

Says the PC: "God, i can't believe how materialistic you brokers are."

"And what do you mean by that ? ! ? ! ?"

"Well, it seems that the lorry took your right arm off as well, and you've not even mentioned that."

The broker looks down . . . "OH MY GOD, where's my Rolex ? ! ? ! ? "