A homeless guy is travelling down a country lane, tired and hungry. He comes across a pub called ‘George and the Dragon’.
Although it’s late and the pub is closed, he knocks on the door. The innkeeper’s wife sticks her head out a window.
“Could I have some food?”, he asks.
The woman glances at his shabby clothes and obviously poor condition and sternly says, “No!”
“Any chance of a pint of ale then?”
“No!”, she says again.
“Could I at least sleep in your barn?”
“No!” By this time, she was clearly getting very annoyed.
The down and out says, “Okay then might I please…?”
“What now?”, the woman interrupts impatiently.
“… might I please have a word with George?”
Actually an Indian invented the USB Toby 
D
If that were so then I’d say the Canadians were doing pretty well. I’d rather have British cuisine any day and I’d prefer to fly Airbus than Boeing. So, as Meatloaf said, two out of three ain’t bad.
British cuisine has improved immeasurably over the last twenty five years
Now back to the joke thread
Perfectly happy with that UK response. Imported commercial nonsense and nothing to do with the real event.
steve
Crop Dusted 
You might be underestimating the age distribution on the forum a little.
A nun walks into Mother Superior’s office and plunks down into a chair. She lets out a sigh, heavy with frustration.
‘What troubles you, Sister?’ asked the Mother Superior, ‘I thought this was the day you spent with your family.’
‘It was,’ sighed the Sister, ‘And I went to play golf with my brother. We try to play golf as often as we can. You know I was quite a talented golfer before I devoted my life to Christ.’
‘I seem to recall that,’ the Mother Superior agreed. ‘So I take it your day of recreation was not relaxing?’
‘Far from it,’ snorted the Sister. ‘In fact, I even took the Lord’s name in vain today!’
‘Goodness, Sister!’ gasped the Mother Superior, astonished. ‘You must tell me all about it!’
‘Well, we were on the fifth tee…and this hole is a monster, Mother Superior – 540 yards Par 5, with a nasty dog leg left and a hidden green….and I hit the drive of my life. I creamed it. The sweetest swing I ever made. It’s flying straight and true, right along the line I wanted…and it hits a bird in mid-flight !’
‘Oh my!’ commiserated the Mother. ‘How unfortunate! But surely that didn’t make you blaspheme, Sister!’
‘No, that wasn’t it,’ admitted the Sister. ‘While I was still trying to fathom what had happened, this squirrel runs out of the woods, grabs my ball and runs off down the fairway!’
‘Oh, that would have made me blaspheme!’ sympathized the Mother.
‘But I didn’t, Mother!’ sobbed the Sister. ‘And I was so proud of myself! While I was pondering whether this was a sign from God, this hawk swoops out of the sky and grabs the squirrel and flies off, with my ball still clutched in his paws!’
‘So that’s when you cursed,’ said the Mother with a knowing smile.
‘Nope, that wasn’t it either,’ cried the Sister, anguished, ‘because as the hawk started to fly out of sight, the squirrel started struggling, and the hawk dropped him right there on the green, and the ball popped out of his paws and rolled to about 18 inches from the hole!’
Mother Superior sat back in her chair, folded her arms across her chest, fixed the Sister with a baleful stare and said, ‘You missed the f’n putt, didn’t you?’