A man, clearly the worse for drink, staggers into a bar and orders a pint.
The barman says to him “I’m afraid I can’t serve you, as you are obviously drunk. Would you like me to call you a taxi?”
Mumbling something or other along the lines of “no”, the man clumsily makes his way back out the door without causing any fuss.
A few minutes later, the man comes back in through the side door of the pub, and tries to order a pint.
“I’m afraid, sir, that I still cannot serve you as you are drunk,” comes the reply, “are you sure you don’t want me to call you a cab?”
Once again the man mutters and makes his way out through the door he came in.
Several more minutes pass, and who should come in the back door of the pub but this same boozed-up individual. This time staggers up to the bar, looks the bartender in the eyes, and a look of surprise spreads over his face.
“Jesus,” he manages to say, “how many bars in this town d’you work in?”