He's been there a couple of months without making any friends, and he's getting bit lonely.
One night, there's a heavy knock on the door. He answers the door, and there on the front porch is a classic red-bearded Scotsman. Broad shoulders, huge arms, stout legs, the whole nine yards.
"Hello, can I help you?" asks the New Yorker.
"Aye!" says the Scot. "There's goin ta be a party this weekend, and I'm here to invite ye!"
The New Yorker is thrilled! Finally he'll have some social interaction.
"But I ought to warn ye," says the Scot. "There'll be dancin'!"
"Great!" the New Yorker replies. "I love music!"
"Aye, and there'll be drinkin'!" continues the Scot.
"Wonderful! I can throw back a few!!"
"Oh, and there'll be fighting," says the Scot with a warning tone.
"Well, I can hold my own, I guess, if it comes to it. I was a wrestler back in the day."
"And, ye ought to know, there'll be sex happenin'!"
Now the New Yorker is pretty excited. It seems like finally his new Scottish life might be getting into gear. Maybe he'll meet a sweet lass!
"OK, well, what should I wear?" asks the New Yorker.
"Ach," says the Scot, "ye needn't be worryin' about that. It'll just be the two of us!"
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