The rain is pouring down outside O'Connor's Pub, down Jervis Bay way. There standing in front of a big puddle outside the pub is an old man, drenched, holding a stick, with a piece of string dangling in the water. A passerby stops and asks him gently, “What are you doing old fella?
“Fishing,” replies the old man. Feeling sorry for him, the gent says, “Come in out of the rain and have a drink with me”.
In the warm ambiance of the pub, as they sip their whiskies, the gentleman, being a bit superior, cannot resist asking, “So how many have you caught today, old man?”
The old man takes a long sip, let’s out a satisfied sigh and says happily, “You're the eighth.”