An Irishman walks into a bar in Dublin, orders three pints of Guinness and sits in the back of the room, drinking a sip out of each one in turn. When he finishes them, he comes back to the bar and orders three more.
The bartender asks him, “You know, a pint goes flat after I draw it; wouldn’t you rather I draw fresh pints for you one at a time?”
The fellow replies: “Well, you see, I have two brothers. One is now in America and the other, in Australia. When we all left home, we promised we’d drink this way to remember the days when we drank together.”
The bartender admits that this is a nice custom, and leaves it there.
The fellow becomes a regular in the bar, and always drinks the same way: he orders three pints and drinks them in turn.
One day, he comes in and orders two pints. All the regulars notice and fall silent, speculating about what might have happened to one of the absent brothers.
When the fellow goes back to the bar for a second round, the bartender says, “I don’t want to intrude on your grief, but I wanted to offer my condolences on your great loss.”
The fellow looks confused for a moment and then a light dawns in his eye and he laughs and says: “Oh, no, everyone’s fine. I’ve just given up beer for Lent.”