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Three In A Bed

"Listen. I've just booked three fellows into room seven upstairs. They reckon they're representatives, but I've got a horrible feeling they might be poofters and I don't want any of them round the place. Slip upstairs and have a look around. See what you can find out."

The son wasn't upstairs more than three minutes when he came back and reassured his father:

"It's okay Dad. They're reps all right."

"How can you be so sure? You were only up there a couple of minutes."

"Well Dad, I had a look through the keyhole, see? The first bloke had his foot up on the bed cleaning his shoe with the bedspread. The second bloke was having a piss in the wash basin. And the third bloke was looking out the window down the main street saying, 'Where the hell's a man going to get laid in a one-horse town like this?' They're reps all right."

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