A man enters into a pub and sits down. He begins to dial numbers on his hand, as if it were a telephone, and speaks into it. The bartender approaches him and informs him that this is a rough neighborhood and he does not want any trouble here. The guy responds, “You don’t understand. I am really technological. I had a phone placed in my hand because I was weary of carrying my cellphone.”

The bartender responds, “Prove it.” The guy phones a number and extends his hand to the bartender. The bartender speaks into the hand and converses. “That’s incredible,” says the bartender. “I would never have believed it!” “Yeah,” responded the guy, “I can communicate with my broker, my wife, you name it.” By the way, where is the men’s room?

The bartender takes him to the men’s room. The person goes in, and after 5, 10, or 20 minutes, he does not return. The bartender enters the men’s room, fearing the worse given the surroundings. The guy is spread-eagle on the wall. His pants are pulled down, and he has a roll of toilet paper up his buttock. “Oh, my God!” exclaimed the bartender. “Have they robbed you? “Are you hurt? The man turns and says: “No, I’m fine.” “I am just waiting for a fax.”