This one came from my Cute Engineer. I take no credit, though I mull over his remark that the joke made him think of me. Hm.
Two Scotsmen go on tour in Rome. (Are you listening, Roma?) After a crowded day of visiting museums and chapels they adjourn to a bar. Is there ale on draft? No, they are told. Lager? Sorry, sirs. Ach! then! what is it your Pope drinks up in his palace? “Benedictine, signori.” “Well aye then! bring us each a pint!” — And so an hour later, prostrate on the floor, Hamish says to Dougie: “Ach! Now I understan’ why he’s always gettin’ carried aroun’ in that fookin’ chair!”