That reminds me of another one:
A conman had developed a routine where he would go out into wealthy suburbs and try to get food and money from the wealthy residents. He would dress in old clothes, adopt a very humble pose and knock on the door of any house that had at least a Jag or two parked out front. When the owner opened the door, the conman would produce a dog turd that he had scooped up on a piece of cardboard and would say:
"I am sorry to trouble you sir, but I have found myself on hard times of late. I am terribly hungry but all I have found to eat is this dog's dropping. I wonder if you could spare me just a pinch of salt so that it will be more palatable."
Of course, the owner would then say no, no, you can't eat that! Come inside for a proper meal (or to save the plush furnishings from dirty scuff marks, they usually gave him some money so he could buy a proper meal.)
Now, one cold winters day, the man found himself at the door of a mansion in the country, a very impressive estate with stables and much finery. He rang the doorbell.
When the owner answered, he showed him the dog turd and asked for some salt.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the owner, "you can't eat that, even with salt! Come round to the stables for a warm one!"
