Old John farmed a small farm in NSW. The NSW Wage and Hour Department claimed he was not paying proper wages to his workers and sent an agent out to interview him.
‘I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them,’ demanded the agent.
‘Well,’ replied old John, ‘There’s my farm hand who’s been with me for 3 years. I pay him $600 a week plus free room and board. The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $500 a week plus free room and board. Then there’s the half-wit who works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night.’
‘That’s the guy I want to talk to, the half-wit,’ says the agent.
‘That would be me,’ replied old farmer John.
The Jogger and the Farmer
John, a jogger, is running down a country road and is startled when a horse yells at him, ‘Hey-come over here buddy.’
John is stunned but still runs over to the fence where the horse is standing and asks, ‘Were you talking to me?’
The horse replies, ‘Sure was, man I’ve got a problem. I won the Melbourne Cup a few years ago and this farmer bought me and now all I do is pull a plough and I’m sick of it. Why don’t you run up to the house and offer him $10,000 to buy me. I’ll make you some money because I can still run.’
John thought to himself, ‘Wow, a talking horse.’ Dollar signs started appearing in his head. So he runs to the house and the old rancher is sitting on the porch.
John tells the farmer, ‘Hey man I’ll give you $10,000 for that old broken down nag you’ve got in the field.’
The farmer replies, ‘Son you can’t believe anything that horse says. He’s never even been to Melbourne.’
I took my wife to a restaurant. The waiter, for some reason, took my order first.
“I’ll have the strip steak, medium rare, please.”
He said, “Aren’t you worried about the mad cow?”
“Nah, she can order for herself.”
My wife and I were sitting at a table at my high school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.
My wife asked, ‘Do you know her?’
‘Yes,’ I sighed, ‘she’s my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up those many years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.’
‘My God!’ says my wife, ‘who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?’