‘You see that pub over there,’ Jimmy said.
‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘William Shakespeare used to drink in that pub before he became a famous playwright. He used to sit and drink and wonder what he should do to make some cold hard cash.’
‘Piss off!’
‘Seriously,’ Jimmy said. ‘It’s a little known fact. One night, Willie starts a fight with some guy. They wreck the pace. Cursed the paint off the walls, bashed heads, the whole nine yards. The barkeeper is like; Shakespeare calm down or get out. And Shakespeare is like; thou churlish tickle-brained incontinent varlet!’
‘And then what happened?’ I asked.
‘The barkeeper told him he was bard.’