Marie leans over to Pierre and says: "Pierre, kiss me!"

Our hero grabs a bottle of Merlot and splashes it on Marie's lips.

"What are you doing, Pierre?", says the startled Marie.

"I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I have red meat, I have red wine!"

She smiles and they start kissing.

When things began to heat up a little, Marie says, "Pierre, kiss me lower."

Our hero tears her blouse open, grabs a bottle of Chardonnay and starts pouring it all over her breasts.

"Pierre! What are you doing?" asks the bewildered Marie.

"I am Pierre the fighter pilot! When I have white meat, I have white wine!"

They resume their passionate interlude and things really steam up.

Marie leans close to his ear and whispers, "Pierre, kiss me lower!"

Our hero rips off her underwear, grabs a bottle of Cognac and pours it in her lap. He then strikes a match and lights it on fire.

Marie shrieks and dives into the river. Standing waist deep, Marie throws her arms up and screams furiously, "PIERRE, WHAT IN THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

Our hero stands up, defiantly, and says, "I am Pierre, the fighter pilot! If I go down, I go down in flames!"

A young American girl, on her very first trip to Paris, decided to test the French male's fabled expertise in the art of love-making.

On her first date, she asked him what exactly he intended to do with her.

"First," he replied, "I weel remove ze dress. Zen, I will carry you to ze bed. And zen," he added triumphantly, "I will kiss ze navel."

"Big deal !!!" she said. "I've had my navel kissed before hundreds of times."

"Ahhhhh, but of course!" shrugged the Frenchman. "But... from ze inside?"

A rather superior British army officer spent a very enjoyable night with a high-class prostitute in Hamburg.

The next morning he was up bright and early and was just about to sneak out through the front door when the prostitute appeared and said, "Not so fast, English swine! What about ze marks?" and she held out her hand.

"Ah yes," said the cheap officer, bending to shake her hand. "Ten out of ten, old girl!"

A Frenchman and an Italian were seated next to an Englishman on an overseas flight. After a few cocktails, the men began discussing their home lives.

"Last night I made love to my wife four times," the Frenchman bragged, "and this morning she made me delicious crepes and she told me how much she adored me."

"Ah, last night I made love to my wife six times," the Italian responded, "and this morning she made me a wonderful omelette and told me she could never love another man."

When the Englishman remained silent, the Frenchman smugly asked, "And how many times did you make love to your wife last night?"

"Once," he replied.

"Only once?" the Italian arrogantly snorted. "And what did she say to you this morning?"

"Don't stop."

In the north of England lived a man, poorly educated, who made a large fortune by selling his design for a bicycle chain. With this money he set about realising his childhood ambition to become a country squire. He purchased a beautiful estate near the Scottish border, and proceeded, with the help of some excellent servants, to live in a manner none in his family had ever dreamed of. Foremost of these servants was his butler, Jeeves, a well educated man who assisted his master in every way he could to better himself. The master would often ask Jeeves for advice on how to handle a social situation, or to explain a new term.

One day when the master was reading he called Jeeves in and asked, "Jeeves, what is this fox pass?"

"Sir," replied Jeeves, "that would be 'faux pas.' I'll give you an example. Do you remember recently when Lord and Lady Plushbottom stayed for the weekend? And do you remember how on Sunday morning Lord Plushbottom pricked his finger on a rose? And do you further remember how later, at breakfast, Lady Plushbottom asked her husband 'Is your prick still throbbing dear?' and you said 'Christ!' and I dropped the marmalade? That, Sir, was a faux pas."

Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien called US President Bill Clinton with a pressing emergency: "Our larj-ist condom fact-ery has as-ploded!" the Canadian Prime Minister cried. "Es Canada's favourite form of birth control! This is no guud!"

"Mr. Chretien, the American people feel your pain. We'll do everything in our power to help our good neighbors to the north," replied Mr. Clinton

"We du need your 'elp," said Chretien. "Could you pos-a-bly send us 1,000,000 con-doms to 'elp my pi-pel?"

"No problem, Jean! We'll get right on it," said Mr. Clinton.

"Oui, 'an one small favour, Mr. President?" asked Mr. Chretien.

"What's that, my friend."

"Could you make 'dem in blanc 'n rouge, with an image of a maple leaf on 'dem, and be at least 25cm long and 10cm in diameter?" asked Chretien.

"You'll have 'em in a jiffy," replied the President, and with that Clinton hung up and called the president of Trojan.

"My friend, I need a favour. You've got to make 1,000,000 condoms right away, not for me this time, but for my Canadian friends."

"Consider it done," said the president of Trojan.

"That's great, my friend! They need to be white and red, with an maple leaf image printed on each one. They have to be 25cm, which is roughly 10-inches, in length and 10cm, which is roughly 4-inches, in diameter," noted President Clinton.

"That's easily done, sir. Will there be anything else?"

"Oh, yah," said the President Clinton, "print on the side 'MADE IN AMERICA, size MEDIUM'!"

Three guys were discussing the meaning of "Savoir Faire".

The first guy said, "If you are in bed with another man's wife, and he walks in and says, 'Oops, pardon me.' That is Savoir Faire."

The second guy says, "No, No, if you are in bed with another man's wife, and he walks in and says, 'Oops! Pardon me, please continue.' That is Savoir Faire."

The third guy says, "No, No, No. If you are in bed with another man's wife, and he walks in and says, 'Oops, pardon me! Please continue...' and you CAN, that, my friends, is Savoir Faire."

During WWII, an American Army Captain stationed in England met and fell in love with a British Lieutenant in the WRENS. After a whirlwind courtship, they became engaged and his fiancée wanted him to spend the weekend at her parents' home in the country so they could meet him.

When they arrived at a huge estate, a Rolls Royce was parked in front of a circular driveway with a staff of a dozen maids, butlers, gardeners, etc., standing at attention awaiting their arrival. It was obvious to the Yank that his fiancée was no ordinary Brit, but of the nobility. Her parents were absolutely taken by her choice of a husband and a delightful weekend was enjoyed by all.

When the Yank returned to his headquarters outside London, he went to the British liaison officer's office, explained what had happened, and asked what the proper protocol would be for him at the wedding.

"At the wedding, pretty much the same as your American weddings, I would say, but a bit more elaborate. The big difference would be after the wedding. You will both have connecting rooms in the Claridge Hotel. You will both go to your separate rooms, where you will bathe, apply cologne, put on your pyjamas and robe, and go to the door connecting your two rooms. You will rap on the door. She will answer, 'yes,' and you will say, 'I offer you my honour.' She will respond, 'I honour your offer.' That is your permission to enter her room. After that, it's honour and offer all night."

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