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Angus Broon of Glasgow, Scotland, comes to the little lady of the house exclaiming

"Maggie, cud ya be sewin on a wee button that's come off of me fly? I can't button me troosers."

"Oh Angus, I've got me hands in the dishpan, go next door and
see if Mrs. MacDonald could be helpin ya with it."

About 5 minutes later, there's a terrible crash, a bang, a bit of
yelling and the sound of a body falling down stairs.

Walking back in the door with a blackened eye and a bloody nose
comes Angus. The little lady looks at him and says, "My god, what
happened to ya? Did you ask her like I told you?"

"Aye," says Angus. "I asked her to sew on the wee button, an she
did, everything was goin' fine but when she bent doon to bite off
the wee thread, Mr MacDonald walked in."

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