Originally posted by Flood
A tourist goes to Scotland on vacation. He decides to spend one afternoon in an old Scottish pub. He has a seat and looks around. He notices an old, haggard man sitting a few stools down from him.
‘Looks like a regular,’the tourist thinks to himself. ‘I think I’ll have what he’s having, a nice pint of Guiness.’
So the tourist orders a Guiness.
A few minutes later, the old man looks up from his glass and says rather loudly, in a thick Scottish accent, ‘You see this bar here? I built this me-self. I drafted it in me own basement, and did all the woodwork me-self. Took me three and a half weeks, but do they call me ‘Arthur McDougal: Barbuilder?’ No.’
The tourist stares at the man in bewilderment.
Several minutes later, the old man looks up again. ‘You see that fence out there? I built that me-self. Dragged every stone there. None of ’em is less than 150 pounds, and I dragged each one no less than three-quarters of a mile. But do they call me ‘Arthur McDougal: Fencebuilder? ‘ No.’
The tourist is really worried about this man’s mental health by this time.
Once again Arthur looks up.’You see that bridge out there? I did that me-self. I drafted it in me own basement and was on the construction site every day. I even chose the building materials, but do they call me ‘Arthur McDougal: Bridgebuilder?’ No. But you screw just one sheep…’:D:D:D
Flood.
Jaysus Flood, your rudimentary grasp of Scottish stereotypes is appalling, and you can’t spell Guinness right either, Ren (drinker of Guinness) Frew 😀
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