Fishing....
It's raining hard and a big puddle is forming in front of an Irish pub. An odd-looking old man is standing beside a puddle holding a stick with a string on the end, while jiggling it up and down in the water.
A curious gentleman asks what he is doing?
"Fishing," replies the odd old man.
"Poor old fool," thinks the gentleman. But what the hell? He may well be good for a laugh, and so he invites him in for a drink in the pub.
Sipping their first whisky, the gentleman asks the obvious question, knowing he will relish the answer ever afterwards, to tell his friends:
"And how many have you caught?"
"You're my eighth, today.