Lonely Irish Countrymen
A few Irish countrymen were drinking pints of Guinness on a village pub as one of them looking out the window says in a loud and sad voice (and distinctive Irish accent):
- You see that fence over there? The white fence? My first work... still standing after 20 years, I built it with my bare hands, painted it, and it's still there... They could've call me the Fence Maker... but Nah, they don't.
Looking farther down the rainy landscape he says even louder:
- And you see the Dock? Our sturdy 60 foot dock? Every fisherman uses that dock to go out in the sea every morning, and it has stood there under storms and sunshine, I cut all the timber and assembled all the pillars and all the beams myself... And they could've call me the Dock Buildar... Nah ! They Don't ...
He pounds the bar with his right fist and exclaims:
- And you see this bar? Large solid pieces of Oak, painfully sanded and varnished for 3 straight 24 hour days, so that Paddy here could be open for Saint Patricks' for all of us! So any of you mates here could call me the Bar-Craftsman... or something... But Nah! you don't call me that ...
He looked down and lowered his voice and said:
- But you fuck a goat ONCE ...
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It was told to me by a group of three British attendants to the European School of Airline Economics, in Oct 2001 (a good moment to discuss airline economics). The school was one week in a hotel in Vinkeveen, near Amsterdam.
Well, there's nothing but cows after dark in Vinkeveen, and not being very fond of cattle we used to take the bus to Utrecht and then the train to Amsterdam every day, to have drinks and tell jokes at British-like pubs and to eat at British-unlike restaurants, and attend some cultural event.
That's a whole 80 minutes of transportation just for the sake of eating and drinking (not very efficient). The second night we discovered the train had a bar-wagon and we were able to boost the efficiency back to 100%.
Regards,
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