The bartender finally relented, and served the man his best quality twelve-year-old scotch.
The entire episode had been witnessed by an old drunk at the other end of the bar. He now walked up to the selective scotch drinker, put a glass down in front of him and asked: “What do you think of this?”
The scotch expert took a sip of the golden liquid and spat it out violently on the bar. “That’s disgusting!” he said. “It tastes like piss!”
“It is,” replied the old drunk. “Now tell me how old I am.”
Thanks a million for them jokes. Really, your column has constituted the best therapy for the past two years since l was diagnosed with TYPE 2 diabetes. I am well now, but most of my friends and even near relatives thought l was in my autumn years. I have bounded back on good diets etc. In my office, l am lonely, the price for being office brass; but your jokes have kept me laughing away to tears. Thanks again, and keep up the good work.