Catchelot wrote: Bazza lived alone in Tasmania. He wanted to dig his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, Jase, who used to help him, was in prison. Bazza wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament. Dear Jase, I am feeling pretty bad because it looks like I wont be able to plant my potato garden this year; Im just getting to 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 Dad, For heavens sake, dont dig up that garden, thats where I buried the BODIES. Love Jase. At 4A.M. the next morning, the Federal Police and local police showed up and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologised to Bazza and left. The same day the old man received another letter from his son. Dear Dad. Go ahead and plant the potatoes now. Its the best I could do under the circumstances. Love Jase. |
Catchelot wrote: |
smudge wrote:
The original Photo Bomber! |
I was doing an overnight at a hotel away from home. So I took my computer down to the bar to do some data entries.
I sat down at the bar and I asked the bartender ‘What’s the wifi password?’
Bartender:
You need to buy a drink first.
Me:
Okay, I’ll have a beer.
Bartender:
We have VB on tap.
Me:
Sure. How much is that?
Bartender:
$6.00.
Me:
Ok. Here you are. What’s the wifi password?
Bartender:
youneedtobuyadrinkfirst No spaces and all lowercase.
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