And before anyone from Liverpool has a go at me, my wife is a Scouser.
An Australian, an Irishman and a Scouser are in a bar.
They're staring at another man sitting on his own at a table in the corner.
He's so familiar, and not recognising him is driving them mad.
They stare and stare, until suddenly the Irishman twigs: 'My God, it's Jesus!'
Sure enough, it is Jesus, nursing a pint.
Thrilled, they send him over a pint of Guinness, a pint of Fosters and a
pint of bitter.
Jesus accepts the drinks, smiles over at the three men, and drinks the pints slowly, one af