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It happened by chance in the small village of Deyaken when a rather well-to-do-londoner visiting said village during the famous grouse hunting season entered the rather small village shop.
The shop keeper a rather old scotsman called MacDuff had a rather bad head cold. The conversation went something like this.
"I am looking for a fine Malt for my employer Lady Burn".
"I hear that you may be have one my man?"
"May I see your wares?"
The old man gets out a single bottle of old Macsomething 102yr old and through his mucus laden throat manages to say. "Aye, this one is going for a thong".
Surprised but impressed our man rumages in his trousers and pulls out his thing which happens to be encased in a thong.
"Not thong. Thong!" cries our old wee man
"Yes indeed," says our hero "and it's a damned fine one too. A good swap I'd say, what?"
Caught in a muddle and being eager to right the situation, as our posh friend removes his under garment, de riguer wear on a shoot I believe, our old man chimes in. "No! Going for a thong." And with all his aching head starts to sing the first thing that comes into his head "We'll keep a welcome in the hillside...".
Rather surprised at the sudden choral display our hero throws down the underwear snatches the bottle, bids our hero farewell with a final "It's bally nice here in Wales!"
The old man tries one last attempt at righting the situation by running outside after the Londoner. "Och, ye have it sa wrong" he shouts, waving the thong.
The Londoner immediately cottons on, and berates the old man before getting in his Range Rover and driving off..
"What? you said that the whisky was going for a thong and now you want a sarong? I bally well think not. A deal is a deal, and anyway, I only have a smoking jacket!"
How long the thong was, has never been revealed as the man passed over to the other side shortly after. As far as we know he still lives there.
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