An Englishman and an Irishman go to a bakery.

The Englishman steals three buns, puts them into his pockets, and leaves.

He tells the Irishman, “That took great skill and guile to steal those buns. The owner didn’t even see me.”

“That’s just simple thievery,” the Irishman replied.

“I’ll show you how to do it the honest way and get the same results.”

The Irishman then proceeded to call out the owner of the bakery and said, “Sir, I want to show you a magic trick.”

The owner was intrigued, so he came over to see the magic trick.

The Irishman asked him for a bun, and then he proceeded to eat it.

He asked two more times, and after eating them again, the owner said, “Okay, my friend, where’s the magic trick?”

The Irishman then said, “Look in the Englishman’s pockets.”

An Irishman walks into a bar in London
An Irishman walks into a bar in London one lunchtime and orders three pints of Guinness.

He takes them off to a table and starts drinking them, a sip at a time from each in sequence.

It’s unusual, but the barman’s busy and doesn’t ask.

But the Irishman returns at lunch the next day and does the same thing.

And this goes on for a week before the barman eventually asks, “So, what’s with the three pints?”

The Irishman replies, “Simple. I have a brother back home in Dublin and another in New York, and we all promised we’d drink like this, as a way of staying close and keeping each other in mind, y’know.”

Which satisfies the barman.

Anyway, the days become weeks and months, the Irishman becomes a regular, and everyone knows and loves him.

The ritual becomes a part of the pub’s folklore.

One lunchtime, the Irishman comes in and orders two pints of Guinness.

Silence descends on the pub as the Irishman takes his pints to his table.

The barman, awkward as all hell but feeling like he has to say something, comes over to the Irishman and says, “Er, listen, Paddy, I just wanted to say I – well, we – we’re all so sorry for your loss, and, er, if there’s anything we can, er, we can do to, y’know, help or anything…”

The Irishman looks up at the barman, his face a mask of incomprehension – until suddenly, understanding hits him and he starts laughing.

“What? You thought – aw c’mon man, it’s nothing like that! I just quit drinking!”