Glasgow Declares War On France.

The French President is sitting in his office when his telephone rings.
“allo, Mr. Macron!’ a heavily accented voice said. ‘This is Alistair down at the tartan Pub in Glesga (Glasgow). I am ringing to inform you that we are officially declaring war on you! We voted to reject the Lisbon treaty!”

“Well, Alistair,’ M replied, ‘This is indeed important news! How big is your army?’
‘Right now,’ says Alistair, after a moment’s calculation, “there is mesel (me), ma Cousin Dougal, ma next door neighbour MacCleod and his brother, plus the entire darts team from the pub. That makes ten plus we have the MacKintire sisters!”

Macron paused. “I must tell you, Alistair, that I have 100,000 men in my army waiting to move on my command.”
“Shite!” says Alistair. “I’ll have to ring you back.”

Sure enough, the next day, Alistair calls again.
“Mr. Macron, the war is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!” “Oh, and what equipment would that be Alistair?” Macron asks. ‘Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and MacKewan’s farm tractor.”
Macron sighs amused. “I must tell you, Alistair, that I have 6,000 tanks and 5,000 armoured personnel carriers. Also, I have increased my army to 150,000 since we last spoke.” Alistair say’s “I’ll have to get back to you.”

Sure enough, Alistair rings again the next day.
“Mr. Macron, the war is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We have modified Jackie Stewart’s ultra light with a coupla shoties (two shotguns) in the cockpit, and four boys from the Quo Vadis Bar have joined us as well!”

Macron was silent for a minute and then cleared his throat. “I must tell you, Alistair, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to 200,000!”
Alistair replies “I will have to ring you back.”

Sure enough, Alistair calls again the next day. “Mr. Macron ! I am sorry to inform you that we have had to call off the war.” “Really? I am sorry to hear that,” says macron. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Well,” says Alistair, “we had a long chat over a few pints of heavy (beer) and packets of crisps, and we decided there is no fecking way we can feed 200,000 prisoners!”