It takes a while for messages to get here from the Antipodes. Agent 21 sent this, tucked under the wing of a penguin...
An Englishman from well south of the border -- the kind who speaks with a plum in his mouth -- was taking a holiday walking in the Scottish highlands. While hiking up a steep hillside, sweating, and awfully thirsty, he came across a wee brook.
He offloaded his backpack and stooped to have a drink. While drinking he suddenly heard a brrrrrroad voice behind him shouting, "Hoots mon, ye shouldna drink there. It's full of the pssst and the shhhhht fra the beasties and the schwein."
The Englishman looked around and said, "I beg your pardon, but I'm on holiday from the south of England, and I'm afraid that I did not understand a word that you said."
The Scots looked at him, eyeing his plus fours togs, and after a few moments pause said "Och aye, well then... What I just said was, the water in this stream has been filtered through the peat and the bracken and the heather, and so for you to drink it... well, its just fine."
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