And now for a Newfie moment...
I was in Corner Brook, Newfoundland, at the end of July 2001. A good friend was being married to a beautiful Flower of the Rock. After the ceremony one of the groom’s five brothers (as tough a bunch as you could ever meet) took me aside and said with narrowed eyes, “You know, people from away say we Newfies talk too fast. But the fact of the matter is that they think too slow.” I got him to repeat it several times and then understood.
This called to mind, the Newfie seen on Toronto’s Bay Street at start of lunch hour. He was over a manhole cover, jumping up and down and saying: “Seventy-two …seventy-two…seventy-two…seventy-two . . . “
A proverbial stockbroker, complete with a protruding corporate structure above his belt, paused for a long moment to watch and listen. Finally his curiosity got the better of him: “Are you okay?”
“Yes sir … seventy-two … couldn’t be better … seventy-two … seventy-two . . .”
“Well what in heaven’s name are you doing?”
“Seventy-two … you’ll have to … seventy-two … try it … seventy-two … to know it … seventy-two . . . ”
“Well stop and let me try it!” the broker said, almost pushing the Newfie off the sidewalk. He braced himself and copied, “Seventy-two … seventy-two . . . “
The Newfie reached down and pulled the manhole cover off. He slammed the cover back down and began jumping again, “Seventy-three … seventy-three … seventy-three . . . “
And then there’s the Newfie who walks into a Toronto bar, orders three mugs of draft, takes them into a corner and drinks them, sipping from all three in turn. Comes up to the bar, orders three more, takes them back to his table and drinks again. Back to the bar third time and repeats.
The bartender says: "Once a mug of beer is pulled it starts to go flat. Your beer would be fresher if you ordered one at a time.”
"I've got one brudder back home and another in Alberta. We promised we'd always drink like this to remember the times we used to drink together."
Newfie becomes a regular and everyone knows his story. Then one day he comes in and orders only two beers.
Everybody is concerned. "I see you're only drinking two beers. I'm sorry for your loss," says the bartender. "It must be tough losing a brother. Which one is gone?"
"Neither," says the Newfie, "but the wife and me just joined the Baptist Church and I had to stop drinkin'. Hasn't affected me brudders, though."
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