A Welsh farmer drove to a neighbours farmhouse and knocked at the door. A boy, about 9, opened the door. “Is your dad or your mum home?” said the farmer. “No, they went to town.” “How about your brother, Howard? Is he here?” “No, he went with Mum and Dad.” The farmer stood there for a few minutes, shifting from one foot to the other, mumbling to himself. “I know where all the tools are, if you want to borrow one, or I can give dad a message.” said the boy. “Well,” said the farmer uncomfortably, “I really wanted to talk to your Dad. It’s about your brother, Howard, getting my daughter Susie pregnant”. The boy thought for a moment… “You would have to talk to Dad about that. I know he charges £500 for the bull and £50 for the pig, but I don’t know how much he charges for Howard.
A new supermarket opened near my house. It has an automatic water mister to keep the produce fresh. Just before it goes on, you hear the sound of distant thunder and the smell of fresh rain. When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing, and you experience the scent of freshly mown hay. In the meat department, there is the aroma of charcoal-grilled steaks with onions. When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying. The in-house bakery features the tantalising smell of fresh baked bread and pastries. I don’t buy toilet paper there anymore.
It has been legal for women to go topless here in Ontario since 1991...only recommended in the summer though!
