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Paddy was leaving Ireland to seek work in London. On the morning of his leaving, his next door neighbour, Mrs Dunne, came to see him and said, "Oh Paddy, my youngest son Neeley is in London and I haven't had a letter from him in over two months. Would you see him and ask him to write? I'm so worried about him." "Where does he live?" asked Paddy. "London is a big place." "I'm not sure of the address," she said, "but I know it is in WC1." "Okay," said Paddy, and off he went. The following evening, Paddy found himself on Waterloo Station, wondering where he might find Mrs Dunne's son Neeley. Suddenly he saw a sign saying WC's, and an arrow pointing downstairs. On going down the stairs he found a row of cubicles marked 1, 2, 3, etc. He went to cubicle 1 and found it engaged. He knocked the door and a voice said, "I'll be out in a minute." Paddy waited then tried again with the same result. After several repetitions of this, Paddy knocked the door in an impatient manner and shouted, "Are you Neeley Dunne?" The voice replied, "Yes, but I can't find any paper." Paddy shouted angrily, "I don't care. That's no excuse for not writing to your mother!" |
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Originally Posted by forwardone
Not sure that non-Brits will fully appreciate this one, but here goes:-
Geoff |