The Great Man:
[to an Englishman who has a limp in his walk]
Whatsa matter? Did you sprain your ankle?
Bitten Englishman:
No, no, no. A dog bit, bit me.
The Great Man:
Oh.
Bitten Englishman:
Yeah, I was playing, uh, croquet and I, and I dropped my mallet. And, uh, a little dachshund ran straight out and uh, and, and grabbed me by the fetlock.
[Bending over to point to his ankle]
The Great Man:
Oh.
[Looking BEHIND him in the bent-over position]
The Great Man:
Rather fortunate it wasn't a Newfoundland dog that bit you.
Bitten Englishman:
Uh, yes, rahther.
The Great Man:
Yeah.
Bitten Englishman:
I suppose so.
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:00