Parched after a long day of inter-tribal bitching, an Englishman, a Scotsman, and an Irishman head to the local for a pint. Just as they raise their glasses, a fly lands in each one.
The Englishman takes one look at the fly, and promptly vomits into his bowler hat.
The Scotsman shrugs, flicks the fly off the foam, and calmly proceeds to drink.
The Irishman picks up his fly between thumb and forefinger and shrieks, 'SPIT IT OUT, YA FECKING BASTARD!!'
Boru
The Englishman takes one look at the fly, and promptly vomits into his bowler hat.
The Scotsman shrugs, flicks the fly off the foam, and calmly proceeds to drink.
The Irishman picks up his fly between thumb and forefinger and shrieks, 'SPIT IT OUT, YA FECKING BASTARD!!'
Boru
‘But it does me no injury for my neighbour to say there are twenty gods or no gods. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.’ - Thomas Jefferson