The warden catches Frankie leaving the vicinity of the reservoir with a bucket of fish.
“Aha! I’ve caught you poachin’ fish red-handed,” says the warden.
“What do you mean, red-handed?” says Frankie.
“You’ve got a bucket full of ’em right there. You can’t talk your way out of it this time.”
“Oh, you don’t understand,” says Frankie, “I’ve not poached a thing. These are me pet fish. I bring ’em to the reservoir once a week for exercise. After they’ve had a good swim, they come back to the bucket and we go back home.”
“Do ya expect me to believe such a tale?”
“I can prove it.” say Frankie.
So they walk back to the reservoir and Seamus dips the bucket in and the fish swim away. They stand in silence for 20, 30, 40 minutes… No sign of the fish coming back to the pail.
“Ha, ya lying rogue!” shouts the warden, “Where are your fish?”
“What fish?”
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