A British man was stopped by a French gendarme and asked to give a breathalyser test. It happened near Le Bugue in the Dordogne and at the time he was stopped he was as drunk as av

A British man was stopped by a French gendarme and asked to take a breathalyser test. It happened near Le Bugue in the Dordogne, and at the time he was stopped, he was as drunk as a poet at an open bar.

The gendarme crossed his arms and said, "Monsieur, you must blow into zees device."

The Brit swayed slightly, looked at the breathalyser, then back at the officer, and slurred, "Ohhh, mate, I’d love to… but I can’t."

The officer frowned. “And why not?”

The Brit leaned in, whispering dramatically, "Because I have… asthma. My doctor said blowing into things is bad for my lungs."

The gendarme sighed. "Ah. Well then, we will take a blood sample."

The Brit wobbled and gasped. "Oh, no, no, no, officer! I’m a… a hemophiliac! One little prick and poof—gone!"

The gendarme raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Zen we will take a urine sample."

The Brit staggered back and clutched his chest. "Urine? Oh dear… I wish I could! But you see, officer, I have… a kidney condition! Very serious. Doctor’s orders, can’t do it."

The gendarme was now visibly annoyed. “Très bien, Monsieur. Zen we will need a hair sample.”

The Brit gasped, "A hair sample?! That’s impossible!"

The gendarme threw up his hands. “And why is zat impossible?!”

The Brit pointed at his bald head. "Because I have alopecia!"

The gendarme took a deep breath, glared at the man, and then stepped aside. “Fine. You are free to go.”

The Brit grinned, stumbled back to his car, and got in.

As he drove away, his mate in the passenger seat—completely sober—shook his head and muttered, “Blimey, Dave, do you always come up with this many excuses?”

Dave hiccupped and said, “Only when I’m too drunk to pass a test.”