A pensioner approached a parking officer placing a ticket on a windshield.
“You lot are all the same!” she said. “You can never just give a pensioner a break. Pack of heartless bastards.”
The officer, clearly not in a good mood, wrote out a second ticket – this time with an even heftier fine – and placed it on top of the first. “Anything else you’d like to add?” he asked, smugly.
“Absolutely!” says the pensioner. “Your mother worked in a fish market! You smell like you were born under the filleting bench!”
“That’s it!” says the officer, scribbling madly into his book. “This is every fine I can think of!” he shouted, jamming a huge wad of papers under the wiper.
The pensioner shrugged, turned and walked away.
“Where are you going?” shouted the officer.
“Home,” she replied with a giggle. “I don’t own a car”.