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... but I think my favorite is the fellow who always come to pub on Friday night, and asks for three pints. He raises the first one in a toast, downs it, does the same with the second, then before the third, says, "'ere's to ye, boys," then downs the third. This might happen two or three times before he trundles off home.
This goes on for many, many Fridays, and finally, one of the customers approaches him and asks why the strange ritual. "O', it's me rememberin' me brothers. Sean went to Australia and Mick went to America. Before they left, we agreed we'd all buy each other a pint or two on a Friday and keep the faith."
Years go by, every Friday the same. Then, one night, the little man comes in, looking tired and despairing, and orders two pints. When the patrons see this, there's a hush in the room. After he finishes his two pints, the bartender comes up to him, pats him on the back and says, "we all are very sorry for your loss, Francis, please accept the next round on us, in our condolences."
Francis looks up at him, a confused look on his face. The bartender looks down at the two pints and just holds up two fingers, with a questioning look on his face.
The man's face brightens, and he says, "oy, `tis not like that--me brothers are fine! I've just given up the drink."
:)
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