An old man walks into a pub in Scottland, his feet shuffling, his back bent. He drags himself onto a stool and orders a beer. Placing the full glass in front of him, the bartender inquires upon his sad face.
The man answers with a smoky and trembling voice and a Scottish accent:
Ah, tell ya man! This pub, this very pub we're just sitting in. I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Pubmaker? Naa! See the wall over there, that protects our town? I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Wallmaker? And the bridge, you know, that crosses our river, I built it, with me own hands! But do they call me the Bridgemaker?
But I tell ya, man! YOU FUCK ONE GOAT!
Roman 1: "Last night Palonious fuckith his goat"
Roman 2: "Then we must shameth him and force him to weareth the symbol of such an act, so that all will know."
Guy 1: (pointing at guy 2's goatee) "Hey man, what's up with the goatfucker?"
Guy 2: "I grew it so I could savor the flavor of your mom's snatch for days."
A: The stupid, goat fucker who owns it ran the thing out of water, cracking the (cylinder) head but he expects warranty to cover it.
Note: I first heard this term at my first job, working in an auto dealership years ago alongside a brilliant, but very short tempered and angry Canadian auto mechanic named Trevor.