When In Rome...
Two Belfast men go to Rome for their holidays. Naturally, after wandering around
all day looking in vain for a fish and chip shop, they decide to go and get drunk.
So they find a pub and wander in and set themselves up at the bar, but they don't
recognise any of the drinks on the shelves, and there's no sign of draught Bass
about the place. Undeterred, one of them summons the barman.
'Tell us, head-the-ball,' he says, 'what does the Pope drink when he goes out
for the night?'
'Creme de menthe,' says the barman, recognising a right couple of eejits when
he sees them.
'Right,' says the other Belfast man. 'If it's good enough for the Pope, it's good
enough for us. We'll have two pints of creme de menthe.'
So they knock back the two pints of creme de menthe and order two more, and the
next thing they know it's dawn the next day and they're waking up in the gutter
with their mouths tasting like the outside toilets at a peppermint factory.
'Holy mother of God,' says one, 'if that's the stuff the Pope drinks, no wonder
they carry him around in a chair all the time.'