It was raining hard and a big puddle had formed in front of an Irish pub. An old man stood beside the puddle holding a stick with a string on the end and jiggled it up and down in the water. A curious bloke asked what he was doing.
'Fishing,' replied the old man. I can't afford to buy my supper.
'Poor old fool' thought the bloke, so he invited the old man to have a drink in the pub.Feeling he should start some conversation while they were sipping their whisky, the asked, ‘And how many have you caught?'
'You're the eighth'.said the old man.