The French President is sitting in his office when his
telephone rings. 'Hallo, Mr. Sarkozy!' a heavily accented voice said.
'This is Paddy down at the Harp Pub in County Clare, Ireland. I am ringing
to inform you that we are officially declaring war on you! We voted to
reject the Lisbon treaty!'

Well, Paddy,' Sarkozy replied, 'This is indeed
important news! How big is your army?'

'Right now,' says Paddy, after a moment's calculation,

'there's meself, me Cousin Sean, me next door neighbour Seamus, and the
entire darts team from the pub. That makes eleven!'

Sarkozy paused. 'I must tell you, Paddy, that I have
100,000 men in my army waiting to move on my command.'

'Begoora!' says Paddy. 'I'll have to ring you back.'

The next day, Paddy calls again. 'Mr. Sarkozy, the war
is still on. We have managed to get us some infantry equipment!'

'And what equipment would that be Paddy?' Sarkozy asks.

'Well, we have two combines, a bulldozer, and Murphy's
farm tractor.'

Sarkozy sighs. 'I must tell you, Paddy, that I have
6,000 tanks and 5,000 armoured personnel carriers.
Also, I have increased my army
to 150,000 since we last spoke.'

'Saints preserve us!' says Paddy. 'I'll have to get
back to you.'


Paddy rings again the next day. 'Mr. Sarkozy, the war
is still on! We have managed to get ourselves airborne! We have modified
Jackie McLaughlin's ultra-light with a couple of shotguns in the cockpit,
and four boys from the Shamrock Bar have joined us as well!'

Sarkozy was silent for a minute and then cleared his
throat. 'I must tell you, Paddy, that I have 100 bombers and 200 fighter
planes. My military bases are surrounded by laser-guided, surface-to-air
missile sites. And since we last spoke, I have increased my army to
200,000!'

'Mary and Joseph!' says Paddy, 'I will have to ring you back.'

Sure enough, Paddy calls again the next day. 'Top o'
the mornin', Mr. Sarkozy! I am sorry to inform you that we have had to call
off the war.'

'Really? I am sorry to hear that,' says Sarkozy. 'Why
the sudden change of heart?'

'Well,' says Paddy, 'we had a long chat over a few
pints of Guinness and packets of crisps, and we decided there is no fookin'
way we can feed 200,000 prisoners.'