One day, a man walks into an antique shop in London. Looking around, he notices a life-sized bronze sculpture of a cat in a dark corner. The sculpture is so intriguing, he decides he must buy it and asks the shopkeeper the price.
"Twelve quid (”s) for the cat, sir," the shopkeeper tells him, and a ton for the story that goes with it."
"I'll take the cat," says the man, "but you can keep the story."
The transaction completed, the man leaves the store with the bronze cat under his arm. As he crosses the street in front of the store, two cats emerge from an alley and fall into step behind him.
Nervously looking over his shoulder, he begins to walk faster, but every time he passes another alley, more cats come out and follow him. By the time he's walked two streets, at least a 100 cats are at his heels, and people are beginning to point and shout. He walks even faster, and soon breaks into a trot as multitudes of cats swarm from alleys, basements, and abandoned cars.
Thousands of cats are now at his heels, and as he sees the river at the bottom of the hill, he panics and starts to run full pelt. No matter how fast he runs, the cats keep up, hissing insanely, now not just thousands, but millions. He looks up and sees that he is running towards the edge of the Thames, and the trail of cats is now several 100 yards long behind him.
Making a mighty leap, he jumps onto a lamp post, grasping it with one arm while he hurls the bronze cat into the river. Clinging to the lamp post, he watches in amazement as the seething tide of cats surges over the banks into the river, where they drown. Amazed and almost dumbstruck, he makes his way back to the antique shop. "Ah, so you've come back for the story," says the shopkeeper.
"No," says the man, "I was wondering if you had a bronze arsenal fan."
(Whilst this story does not have any travel connotations, the punch line can be changed depending where you reside. United in Manchester, Everton in Liverpool, and either Celtic or Rangers in Glasgow. Up the Spurs!)