A Scottish, English and Irish
Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, in a NY City bar.
"As good as this is," said the Scottish, "I still prefer the pubs back home. In Glasgow, there's a wee place called McTavish's. The landlord goes out of his way for the locals. When you buy four drinks, he'll buy the fifth.
"Well, Angus," said the English, "at my local pub in London, the Red Lion, the barman will buy you your third drink after you buy the first two."
"Ahhh, dat's nothin'," said the Irish, "back home in my favorite pub, the moment you set foot in the place, they'll buy you a drink, then another, all the drinks you like, actually. Then, when you've had enough drinks, they'll take you upstairs and see dat you gets laid, all on the house!"
The English and Scottish were suspicious of the claims.
The Irish swore every word was true.
"Did this actually happen to you?" they asked.
"No not me self, personally, no," admitted the Irish,
"but it did happen to me sister quite a few times."