My friend asked his father-in-law, a crop duster, how his day had gone.
“I had just the worst day,” replied the man. “This morning I was up in my plane dusting a field when I nicked a power line and damaged the wing on the plane. When I got back to the office, my boss chewed me out. Then the guy from the FAA chewed me out.
“On my way home, I stopped at a bar and was handed a warm beer. So I yelled at the bartender, ‘Don’t you have any cold beer?!’
“The bartender said, ‘Sorry, but we’ve been out of electricity all day ever since some idiot crop-duster hit a power line down the road.'”
A man inserted an ‘ad’ in the classifieds: “Wife wanted.”
Next day he received a hundred letters.
They all said the same thing… “You can have mine!”
I know we’ve had this before but . . .
Into the local pub comes Paddy Murphy, looking like he’d just been run over by a train. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he’s walking with a limp.
“What happened to you?” asks Sean, the bartender.
“Jamie O’Conner and me had a fight,” says Paddy.
“That little shit, O’Conner?” says Sean, “He couldn’t do that to you, he must have had something in his hand.”
“That he did,” says Paddy, “a shovel is what he had, and a terrible lickin’ he gave me with it.”
“Well,” says Sean, “you should have defended yourself. Didn’t you have something in your hand?”
“That I did,” said Paddy, “Mrs. O’Conner’s breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight.”