British hospitality

Imran , a Pakistani citizen aged 72, is visiting London for the first time.

He decides to skip the afternoon siesta and explore the city on his own.

He wanders around, seeing the sights, and occasionally stopping at a quaint pub to soak up the local culture, chat with the lads, and have a pint of Guinness.

After a while, he finds himself in a very high-class neighbourhood. Big, stately residences ... no pubs, no stores, no restaurants, and worst of all ... no public toilets.

He really, really has to go, after all those Guinness beers and all that trouble with his prostate.

Imran finds a narrow side street with high walls surrounding the adjacent buildings and decides to use the wall to solve his problem.

As he is unzipping, he is tapped on the shoulder by a London bobby who says, "I say, sir, you simply cannot do that here, you know."

"I'm very sorry, officer," replies Imran, "but I really, really HAVE TO GO, and I just can't find a public toilet."

"Ah, yes," said the bobby, "Just follow me."

He leads him to a back delivery alley, then along a wall to a gate, which he opens. "In there," points the bobby. "Whiz away, anywhere you want."

Imran enters and finds himself in the most beautiful garden he has ever seen. There are manicured lawns, statuary, fountains, sculptured hedges, and huge beds of gorgeous flowers, all in perfect bloom.

Since he had the bobby's blessing, he unburdens himself and is greatly relieved.

As he goes back through the gate, he says to the bobby, "That was really decent of you. Is that what you call 'British hospitality'?"

"No sir," replied the bobby, "that is what we call the Pakistan High Commission and it does not come under English law !!!