The Wine Taster

At the Iniskillin Winery warehouse the regular taster died, and the director started looking for a new one to hire.

A homeless street person, drunk and with a ragged dirty look, came to apply for the position. The director wondered how to send him away.  They gave him a glass to drink.

The old ‘troller tried it and said, “It's a Muscat three years old, grown on a north slope, matured in steel containers. Low grade but acceptable.”

“That's correct,” said the boss.

“Another glass, please.”

“It's a cabernet, eight years old, south-western slope, oak barrels, matured at eight degrees.  Requires three more years for finest results.”

“Absolutely correct! A third glass.”

He calmly said, “It's a pinot blanc champagne, high grade and exclusive.” 

The  director was astonished and winked at his secretary to suggest something.  She left the room and came back in with a glass of urine.  The homeless street person tried it. 

“It's a blonde, 26 years old, three months pregnant, and if I don't get the job, I'll name the father.”