Michael Ryan’s battered old car was stopped by the Gardaí, just outside of Thurles town, around 3.00 a.m. last Saturday, after he had left a local poker game.
Michael slowly rolled down the car window. “Good night to you sir,” said the police officer, “And would you mind telling me your intended destination, at this time of the night.”
“Sure I don’t mind at all, officer,” said Michael politely, “Believe it or believe it not, I’m on my way into Thurles to attend a series of lectures on the abuse of alcohol and the long term dangerous effects it has on the human body. The lecture will also include the latest scientific findings on the over use of tobacco, not to mention the erosion and eventual breakup of the family unit, brought about by parents who continually stays out late every single night of the week.”
“Really,” said the police officer surveying Michael suspiciously, “and tell me this now sir, who would be holding lectures at this time of the night, might I ask?”
“Me current Missus, officer,” replied Michael.
He probably needed a lecture.
A New Yorker moved to the country and bought a piece of land. He went to the local feed and livestock store and talked to the owner about how he was going to take up chicken farming. He asked to buy 100 chicks.
“That’s a lot of chicks.” said the owner
“I mean business.” the city slicker replied.
A week later he was back again.
“I need another 100 chicks.” he said.
“Boy, you sure are serious about this chicken farming business.” the man told him.
“Yeah,” he replied, “If I can just work out a few problems.”
“Problems?” ask the store owner.
“Yes,” he said, “All the last chicks died. I don’t know if I am planting them too deep or too close together.“