All right, everyone, stand back. This could be dangerous. And beforehand, my apologies to my mother. I am proud of my Scottish heritage!
An English pub is busy on a Friday night, with lots of people talking, drinking, and dancing after a hard week's work. Suddenly a three hundred pound, six foot nine Scot bursts in. He's got the full regalia on, kilt, dirk, bagpipes around his shoulder, and , of course, a plate of haggis in his hand. Everyone in the bar gets quiet and the Scot bellows, "I'm a big tough Scot, and I've come tae shag an English woman!" With that he picks up one of the ladies at the bar, puts her over his shoulder, and leaves as rapidly as he came in. The next night the same thing happens. The Scot bursts in,"I'm a big tough Scot, and I've come tae shag an English woman!", grabs another woman, and out the door. So this happens for the next two or three nights and the bar patrons are bewildered, or at least as they can be, being soused to the gills. So finally, on Thursday when the big Scot comes in and takes another young lady, a little accountant staggers over to the Scotsman and gestures to him so that he can whisper something in the bigman's ear. The giant bends down and the accountant whispers, "I don't blame you, I wouldn't touch a Scottish woman either."
O.K., this is the part where you laugh and I get applause.
Or not. . .