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Irish spud joke

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    Irish spud joke

    Old Sean lived alone in Northern Ireland. He wanted to dig his potato
    >>>>
    >>>>>> garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, Mick, who used to
    >>>>>> help him, was in an English prison.
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> Dear Mick,
    >>>>>> I am feeling a mite down because it looks like I won't be able to
    >>>>>> plant me potato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be
    >>>>>> digging up a garden plot. If you were here, all my troubles would be
    >>>>>> over. I know you would dig the plot for me.
    >>>>>> Love, Dad
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> A few days later he received a letter from his son:
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> Dear Father,
    >>>>>> For CHRIST'S SAKE, don't dig up the garden! That's where I buried all
    >>>>
    >>>>>> them bleedin' BODIES!
    >>>>>> Love, Mick.
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> At 4 A.M. the next morning, a dozen agents from Scotland Yard and
    >>>>>> local police officers showed up and dug up the entire garden down to
    >>>> a
    >>>>>> depth of about six feet. That evening, not finding any bodies, they
    >>>>>> apologized to the old man and left.
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> The next day the old man received another letter from his son:
    >>>>>>
    >>>>>> Dear Father,
    >>>>>> Go ahead and plant yer spuds now. It's the best I could do under the
    >>>>>> circumstances.
    >>>>>> Love, Mick
    All hat and no cattle

    #2
    I don't hate people. I just feel better when they aren't around.


    Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness

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      #3
      No matter how far back you seem, when you're blessed with class, anything is possible. Chris Bascombe Sep 21 2006

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