“Ask him to sing the National Anthem.”
“Which one?”
“The English, to be sure. There is no other nation.”
“But he’s an Im—Im—Im—imperialist. Ho—there, waiter! Whisky—Soda—Rum—Gin—and pure beer.”
“Why do you need it?”
“To drink the toast.”
“No more?”
“To wash the word out of my throat, it stuck there.”
“You’ll get drunk.”
“Why not? I’m loyal.”