The rain was pouring and there was a big puddle in front of the pub. A ragged old man was standing there with a rod and hanging a string into the puddle.�
A tipsy- looking, curious gentleman came over to him and asked what he was doing.�
'Fishing,' the old man said simply.
'Poor old fool,' the gentleman thought and he invited the ragged old man to a drink in the pub.�
As he felt he should start some conversation while they were sipping their whisky, the gentleman asked,�
'And how many have you caught?'
'You're the eighth,' the old man answered.



A fish and a bird can fall in love, but where will they build their nest?