Twelve skin-heads walk into a pub

Twelve skin-heads, bubbleboys, walk into a pub with their Levi jackets on and all their equipment. And they walk up to the landlord and say "Thirteen pints of bitter, please."

"But there are only twelve of you."

"Look, we want thirteen pints of bitter."

So he gives them the beer and they all sit down. And there’s a little old fellow sitting in a corner and the skin-head leader walks over to him and says "Here you are, dad, here’s a pint of beer for you."

The little fellow says "Thank you, thank you, you are generous, son."

"It’s all right, we don’t mind helping cripples."

"But I’m not a cripple."

"You will be if you don’t buy the next round."