On a golf tour in Ireland, Tiger Woods drives his BMW into a petrolstation in a remote part of the Irish countryside. The pump attendant,obviously one who knows nothing about golf, greets him in a typicalIrish manner, completely unaware of who the golfing pro is.
"Top of the mornin' to yer, sir," says the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick "hello," and bends forward to pick up the nozzle. Ashe does so, two tees fall out of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
"What are dose?" asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"Well, what on god's earth are dey for?" inquires the Irishman.
"They're for resting my balls on when I'm driving," says Tiger.
"Bloody Hell," says the Irishman, "BMW tinks of everyting!"
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"Top of the mornin' to yer, sir," says the attendant.
Tiger nods a quick "hello," and bends forward to pick up the nozzle. Ashe does so, two tees fall out of his shirt pocket onto the ground.
"What are dose?" asks the attendant.
"They're called tees," replies Tiger.
"Well, what on god's earth are dey for?" inquires the Irishman.
"They're for resting my balls on when I'm driving," says Tiger.
"Bloody Hell," says the Irishman, "BMW tinks of everyting!"
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