So it seems there were three men in a pub, enjoying some liquid refreshment, possibly a Guinness (or a Tennant's).
As soon as they were served, the first, a strong manly American boy, noticed a fly in his glass. 'I cannot drink this' he exclaimed, and ordered 'bring me a fresh one!' His wish was granted.
The next man, a stalwart Irishman, noticed that he too had a fly in his glass. A bit more 'man of the world', he deftly picked out the fly, threw it over his shoulder, and happily quaffed his drink.
Our last, a Scot thorugh and through, found his fly, gaily doing the backstroke in his drink. Incensed, he skillfully retrieved this little swimmer, turned it on it's back, and poked him repeatedly on it's stomach, shouting 'spit it oot, spit it oot!!'
TeeHee! And here he is, the teller of this tale, peeking maniacally from behind my wee sister some years ago.
3 comments:
Ok, that shot of his is pretty darn creepy! But that is the time-period more than anything else -- no more creepy 'stache on his lip!
I love the look on Rachel's face, like she's thinking "Help me?" hahaha
on the nose, Sara! I used to be embarrassed by dads eccentricities...now I cherish them!
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