Four elderly gents are walking down a street in Manchester. They turn a corner and see a sign that says, "Old Timers Pub - All drinks 20p."
They look at each other and then go in, thinking this is too good to be true.
The old man behind the bar says in a voice that carries across the room, "Come on in and let me get you one ! What'll it be, gentlemen?"
There's a fully stocked bar, so each of the men (spoilt for choice and no doubt still clinging to inflated memories of their youth) orders a dry martini - shaken, not stirred. In no time at all the landlord serves up four martinis and says, "That'll be 20p each, please."
The four guys stare at him for a moment, then at each other. They can't believe their good luck.
They pay the 80p, enjoy their martinis, then order another round.
Again, four excellent martinis are produced, with the bartender again saying, "That's 80p, please."
They pay up, but their curiosity is getting the better of them. The drinks are excellent, yet it's costing less than £1 a round. Finally one of them asks, "How can you afford to serve martinis as good as these for a 20p a throw?"
"I'm a retired tailor," the landlord says, "and I always wanted to own a pub. Last year I hit the Lottery Jackpot for £25 million and decided to open this place. Every drink costs 20p - that's Wine, spirits, liqueurs, beer - they're all the same."
"Wow! That's what I call sharing your good fortune!" one of the men replies.
As the four of them sip at their martinis, they can't help noticing several other people at the end of the bar who don't have any drinks in front of them and haven't ordered anything the whole time they've been there.
Nodding at the men at the far end of the bar, one of the men asks the barman, "With prices like yours, how come they're not drinking?"
The landlord says, "Simple. They're retired folk from Yorkshire. They're waiting for Happy Hour when all drinks are half-price".