The rain was pouring down. And there, standing in front of a big puddle outside the pub, was an old Irishman, drenched, holding a stick, with a piece of string dangling in the water.
A passer-by stopped and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Fishing,” replied the old man.
Feeling sorry for the old man, the gent says, “Come in out of the rain and have a drink with me.”
In the warmth of the pub, as they sip their whiskies, the gentleman cannot resist asking, “So how many have you caught today?”
“You’re the eighth.” says the old man…