A gift of fruit

Sometimes, for the sake of fun or truth, there is no alternative to calling a spade a spade. This reminds me of a story:

Timur set his camp near Konya. Each morning, the neighbouring villages sent gifts to sweeten his disposition.

One day, it was Nasreddin’s turn, with a small basket of green figs.

"What!" growled the Emir, "I hate figs! Stick them up his arse."

The guards promptly undressed Nasreddin and began to execute the order.

Unexpectedly, as the punishment proceeded, Hoça erupted in mad laughter.

"What is this?" the Emir asked, curious. "Are you one of those people who like this sort of thing?"

"Oh no, kind master, no," replied the Mullah, "but I think to the man from the other village, who's next. He brought you watermelons!"