Poor Jim

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    Siamese twins walk into a pub in Canada and park themselves on a barstool. One of them says to the bartender, ‘Don’t mind us; we’re joined at the hip. I’m John, he’s Jim. Two Molson Canadian beers, draft please.’

    The bartender, feeling slightly awkward, tries to make polite conversation while pouring the beers.

    ‘Been on holiday yet, lads?’

    ‘Off to England next month,’ says John. ‘We go to England every year, rent a car, and drive for miles. Don’t we, Jim?’

    Jim agrees.

    ‘Ah, England !’ says the bartender. ‘Wonderful country . . . the history, the beer, the culture.’

    ‘Nah, we don’t like that British crap,’ says John.

    ‘Hamburgers and Molsons beer, that’s us, eh Jim? And we can’t stand the English – they’re so arrogant and rude.’

    ‘So why keep going to England ?’ asks the bartender.

    ‘It’s the only chance Jim gets to drive.’

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