Fun Friday Facts.......



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Userlevel 4
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Was that a question or a clue? I think the teacher is right, it leaves nine sheep.
Userlevel 7
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Erm, @Slinky

It's a Westcountry-style joke where the punchline relies on the pretext that educated city-folk probably won't "get it". I think you've just proved this to be true!

Anyone who "knows their sheep" will appreciate that when one finds a gap in the hedge, then all the rest will surely follow.

Oliver is right - none will be left in the field. Miss Tregantha doesn't "know her sheep"! 😀
Userlevel 4
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Ah I see and there was me thinking jokes were supposed to be funny 😗 Oh well I guess I'll go back to reading the seven volumes of “The Decline and Fall of the Roman “Empire,” I do at least understand some of that 😉
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@Transparent

All jokes aside I should have know about that really being born and raised in rural Buckinghamshire. Ironically I studied agricultural science at secondary school and did an 'O' Level in it, not that I did too well. My mind was set on other things back then as I wanted to be a Taxidermist. (save the get stuffed jokes I've heard them all before) Sadly that didn't work out either and the look on the careers officers face said it all. I did do a spell with a Taxidermist in Oban Scotland for a short while but only as free labour and to learn some of the skills. Taxidermy seemed like a dying art back then but it seems to have made a come back over the years. I'm more into graphic art now, it's much less messy and doesn't have that lingering odour of death 😉
Userlevel 7
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Westcountry Tales, part 3.

The three farmers were, as usual, seated on their stools near the open fire at the far end of the bar. Sundown had been an hour before, and they relished their evenings together over a pint of rough scrumpy after a full day's toil.

At that moment, the door swung open and four smart suits entered, wandered past them and positioned themselves at the other end of the long oak bar.

"What'll it be then, m'luvvas?" asked Beth, the bar-maid, in her broad Westcountry accent.

"We'll have three pints of Carlsberg and a tomato juice for George, because he's driving," replied one of the suits.

"You won't get that foreign stuff round 'ere, dearie" said Beth. "I've got Jail Ale, Bodmin Brown Ale, Teignworthy 'Arvest Gold or a scrumpy. Now what'll it be?"

The city gents settled on three Teignworthy's and an orange squash, handing over a credit card. Beth grumbled noticeably, hunting out the card machine from the shelf below the till, and blowing the dust off it.

The locals in the pub had watched all this with amusement, wondering how the next few minutes was going to play out. They didn't have to wait long.

"We'll 'ave some fun 'ere," said one of the farmers, nudging his mates. He raised his voice; "'As anyone 'ere lost a great big roll of five poun' notes done up wiv a rubby band?"

The tallest suit nudged one of his friends. "We'll have some fun here," he whispered. "Yes, my man!" he called out. "That'll be mine. I must have dropped it on the way in!"

"Well, there's a thing," called back the farmer, "coz I've foun' 'ee rubby band!"

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