An 18th-century vagabond in England, cold, wet, exhausted and famished, came to a roadside Inn called 'George and the Dragon'.
It was night, raining hard, and blowing a fierce gale.
He knocked. The Innkeeper's wife stuck her head out of an upstairs window.
"What the HELL do you want at this time of night?" She screamed.
"Could ye spare some victuals?" he asked.
The woman glanced at his shabby, dirty clothes.
"No! bugger off!" she shouted.
Could I just have a pint of ale, or a quick bite to eat then?" He pleaded.
"No! On yer way" she shouted. “
"Could then, I at least sleep in your stable this inclement night?"
"No! Get the hell away with you" she shouted again.
The vagabond wearily began, "Might I please ........... ?"
"What now?" the woman screeched, not allowing him to finish.
"D'ye suppose," he asked, "that I might have a quick word with George?"