THREE SAINTS WALK INTO A BAR

Three saints walk into St. Patrick's bar.

"I'll get these, George, as you've had a big day slaying that dragon," says Saint David who orders three pints of ale.

"I'll get us a round of chasers to go with it,' suggests Saint Andrew who promptly orders an additional three glasses of scotch.

"And a couple of packets of pork scratchings, barman, if you will," Saint David further adds to round off his order.

The sozzled-looking barman tells the men to take a seat and wait for him to bring their drinks over to their table.

"He looks a bit worse for wear, that barman," says a concerned David.

"Ah, nae bother about Patrick, " replies Andrew. "He always looks like that."

As the three saints crack some jokes about their past adventures on the road, the barman Patrick begins to walk slowly toward them with hands shaking and wobbling their tray of drinks something terrible.

"Fucking hell, watch it barman!" shouts David.

"Don't you dare swear in here. This is a place of worship!" the red nosed Patrick says, hiccuping and pointing to a painting of the crucifixion above the bar.

"What are you on about, man? This is a pub not a church!" protests George.

Laying the tray of drinks down on the small, rickety wooden table which the three saints are sat round, the wild haired barman stares balefully at the Englishman with bloodshot eye.

"And I suppose next you'll be telling me you're a saint and that's a slain dragon out front and not a dead horse."