Joke: A duck walks into a bar…

A duck waddles into a cozy, old-fashioned pub, its wooden sign creaking gently in the breeze. He hops onto a stool at the bar and, with a surprisingly clear voice, orders a pint of the local ale and a ham sandwich.

The bartender, a stout man with a handlebar mustache, does a double-take. “Hang on a minute!” he exclaims, polishing a glass with a cloth. “You’re…a duck!”

The duck, unfazed, replies, “My eyesight’s just fine, thank you very much.”

The bartender’s eyebrows shoot up. “And you can talk!” he blurts out, nearly dropping the glass.

“Indeed,” the duck quips. “And I perceive that your hearing is functioning quite well, too. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate my beer and sandwich.”

“Oh, right, of course! Sorry about that,” the bartender stammers, recovering his composure. He busies himself pouring the duck’s pint. “It’s just…we don’t often get ducks in here. What brings you to this part of town?”

“I’m working on the construction site across the street,” the duck explains, taking a sip of his beer. “I’m a plasterer.”

The bartender is utterly flabbergasted. He can barely believe his ears. He’s bursting with questions, but notices the duck has pulled a newspaper from his satchel and is now engrossed in reading it. He decides to let it go for the moment.

For the next two weeks, the duck becomes a regular. He comes in, orders his usual, reads his paper, and then heads back to work. The bartender, though still amazed, gets used to the sight.

Then, one day, a circus comes to town, setting up its big top in a nearby field. The ringmaster, a flamboyant character with a top hat and a booming laugh, pops into the pub for a drink. The bartender, remembering the duck, says to him, “You’re with the circus, aren’t you? Well, I know this duck who would be perfect for your show! He talks, drinks beer, eats sandwiches, reads the newspaper – the whole nine yards!”

“Sounds absolutely marvelous!” the ringmaster exclaims, handing the bartender his business card. “Tell him to give me a call.”

The next day, the duck waddles in for his usual. The bartender, eager to play matchmaker, says, “Hey, Mr. Duck, I think I’ve got a fantastic opportunity for you, with a really good salary.”

“I’m always open to new opportunities,” the duck replies, folding his newspaper. “What is it?”

“It’s with the circus!” the bartender announces with a flourish.

“The circus?” the duck repeats, a puzzled look on his face.

“That’s right!” the bartender confirms.

“The circus?” the duck asks again, still looking confused. “You mean the one with the big tent?”

“Yes, exactly!” the bartender replies.

“With all the animals kept in cages, and the performers living in caravans?” the duck continues.

“That’s the one!” the bartender says.

“And the tent is made of canvas, with a big canvas roof and a hole in the middle?” the duck persists.

“Yes, that’s right!” the bartender confirms, wondering where this is going.

The duck shakes his head in utter disbelief and says, “What in the world would they need a plasterer for?”