It was a long day at work, and George decided to leave his London office and walk to the pub across the street to get a few drinks.
The rain was pouring as he stepped out, and there was a big puddle in front of the pub. As he crossed the street, he noticed a ragged old man was standing there with a rod and hanging a string into the puddle.
His curiosity piqued, he stopped next to the old man and asked what he was doing.
"Fishing." The old man said simply without looking at George.
"Poor old fool." George thought, and he invited the ragged old man to a drink in the pub.
He felt he should start some conversation while they were sipping their whiskey, so he thought he'd humor the old man and asked, "Well... how many have you caught?"
"You're the eighth."
A monocle walks into a bar. After a few drinks he starts to feel pretty good (and a little uncoordinated). He reaches for a cigarette, but the bartender stops him. "Sorry, buddy, but due to city ordinances we don't allow smoking in here. You'll have to step outside to smoke."
So the monocle hops off the bar stool and grabs his cigarettes to head outside. Meanwhile a second monocle emerges from the bathroom. They bump into each other as they cross paths and fall to the floor, hopelessly entangled. They try to get free but the more they struggle, the more tangled they become.
The bartender looks down on this travesty and shakes his head. "Hey you two!" he shouts. "Stop making spectacles of yourselves!"
Go to BabaMail
