An 18th-century vagabond in England, exhausted and
famished, came to a roadside Inn with a sign reading:
"George and the Dragon."
The Innkeeper's wife stuck her head out a window.
"Could ye spare some victuals?"
The woman glanced at his shabby, dirty clothes. "No!" she shouted.
"Could I have a pint of ale?"
"No!" she shouted.
"Could I at least use your privvy?"
"No!" she shouted again.
The vagabond said, "Might I please...?"
"What now?" the woman screeched, not allowing him to finish.
"D'ye suppose," he asked, "that I might have a word with George?"