A Scottish old timer in Scotland is sitting in a bar talking to a young man. "Lad, look out there to the field. Do ya see that fence? Look how well it's built. I built that fence stone by stone with me own two hands. Piled it for months. But do they call me McGregor-the-Fence-Builder? Nooo.."

Then the old man gestured at the bar. "Look here at the bar. Do ya see how smooth and just it is? I planed that surface down by me own achin' back. I carved that wood with me own hard labour, for eight days. But do they call me McGregor-the-Bar-builder? Nooo..."

Then the old man points out the window. "Eh, Laddy, look out to sea. Do ya see that pier that sretches out as far as the eye can see? I built that pier with the sweat off me back. I nailed it board by board. But do they call me McGregor-the-Pier-Builder? Nooo..."

Then the old man looks around nervously, trying to make sure no one is paying attention. "But ya fuck one goat . . . "