Paul

In a pub in the early hours of the morning, my friend bumped into a regular late-night drinker whom she had met before.  A solitary wisp of grey hair hung down over his forehead.  He is a doctor.  He had a companion who told me that he is also a member of the aristocracy although I was unable to ascertain the whereabouts of his country pile.  It seemed natural to ask my question.  'My mother always said, 'I gave you two saints' names, but neither of them has done you any good'', he told me, tapping his nose.  As we were leaving, he suggested to my friend, 'Next week for a cup of tea and a sticky bun?'