At the National Art Gallery in Dublin, a husband and wife were staring at a portrait that had them completely confused. The painting depicted 3 black men totally naked, sitting on a bench. Two of the figures had black penises, but the one in the middle had a pink penis.
The curator of the gallery realized that they were having trouble interpreting the painting and offered his personal assessment. He went on for over half an hour explaining how it depicted the sexual emasculation of African Americans in a predominately white, patriarchal society. "In fact," he pointed out, "some serious critics believe that the pink penis also reflects the cultural and sociological oppression experienced by gay men in contemporary society."
After the curator left, an Irishman approached the couple and said, "Would you like to know what the painting is really about?" "Now why would you claim to be more of an expert than the curator of the gallery," asked the couple? "Because I am the artist, who painted the picture," he replied. "In fact, there are no African Americans depicted at all. They're just three Irish coal miners. The guy in the middle went home for lunch."
So Angus goes out pub crawling in Glasgow and ends up passed out in a ditch. Two young ladies pass by and find him completely zonkered out by the side of the road, his kilt up around his belly, naked from the waist down. One girl giggles and, removing a ribbon from her hair, ties it around his Scottish wanker.
When Angus staggers up in the morning, he finds an immediate need to relieve himself. Lifting up the kilt and taking his dongle in hand, he exclaims, "Ach! I dinna know where ye been last night laddie, but ye won first prize!"
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