A very attractive lady goes up to a bar in a rural pub. She gestures alluringly to the bartender. When he arrives, she seductively signals that he should bring his face closer to hers. When he does she begins to caress his beard.

“Are you the manager?” she asks, softly stroking his face
with both hands. “Actually, no,” the man replies. “Can you get him for me? I need to speak to him,” she says, running her hands beyond his
beard and into his hair. “I’m afraid I can’t,” breathes the bartender.

“Is there anything I can do?” “Yes, there is. I need you to give him a message,” she continues, running her forefinger across the bartender’s lips and slyly popping a couple of her fingers into his mouth and allowing him to suck them gently.

“What should I tell him?” the bartender finally manages to say.

“Tell him,” she whispers, “there is no toilet paper, hand soap, or paper towels in the ladies room.”