Three male fencers (one of each weapon) participated in a group wedding to save money, but they all had different aproaches once they retired to their respective honeymoon suites. The foilist turned on two lights (one of them red, one of them white) for the mood and slowly aproached his wife in bed, and accelerated at the last moment. The saber fencer only left on a red light, threw his wife down on the bed and jumped on top screaming. The epeeist left the lights off, donned his protective gear, waited for his wife to initiate contact, and at the last second touched her first. Then, he wondered why the light didn’t come on and demanded a third party check his equipment.-0+
You can always tell what weapon someone fences by listening to their conversations:
Foil fencers talk about the price of their clothes
Épée fencers talk about the price of their weapons
Sabre fencers talk about the price of their women
Épée fencers talk about getting screwed in the market
Foil fencers talk about getting screwed by their lovers
Sabre fencers talk about getting screwed by directors
I once asked a great coach how he decided which weapon a student should fence. He replied, ”On the first day, I tell him ’keep me from hitting you with my straight arm’ and I extend my arm at them.” He then explained what the three types of students do. The first takes a step back out of range of the coach’s hand, he shall be a sabreur. The second slaps the coach’s hand out of the way before the coach can hit him, he shall be an epee fencer. The third lets the coach hit him and immediately turns to any bystanders and insists that the coach’s arm was bent. He shall be a foilist.-0+
There were once three sabre masters, a French, a Russian, and a Hungarian, and they were all arguing who was the best master.
The argument became rather heated, and without further ado, the French master brings out his sabre, declaring, ”I will show you all!” He targeted one of the flies buzzing around the salle, and with a swipe of his blade, the fly falls to the ground, cut neatly in half.
The Russian sabre master shakes his head, ”Nyet, you shall see that -I- am the best!” And with two swipe of his blade, the fly falls to the ground, it’s wings neatly removed.
They stare expectantly at the Hungarian sabre master, who simply smiles and shakes his head. He targets another fly in the room, and with two swipes of his blade, the fly flys off, undisturbed.
The other two masters laugh and ridicule the Hungarian, who once again shakes his head and holds up his hands, quietly saying, ”That fly will never procreate again!”