A man walked into a bar and ordered a twelve-year-old scotch. Believing that the customer would not be able to tell the difference, the bartender poured him a shot of cheap three-year-old house scotch.
The man took a sip before spitting it out on the bar. “I’m not drinking this!” he complained. “This is cheap three-year-old scotch. Now give me the good twelve-year-old scotch that I asked for!”
Still looking to cut corners, the bartender poured him a shot of a moderate six-year-old scotch.
The man took a sip before once again spitting it out on the bar. “This is just a six-year-old scotch,” he moaned. “I’m not paying for this! Now will you give me the twelve-year-old scotch I ordered?”
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.