THREE TREES
Solve each puzzle. Read the story for the answer.
Paddy wants a job, but the boss won’t hire him until he passes a simple math test. The boss says: “Here is your first question; without using numbers, represent the number 9.”
Paddy says … “Without numbers? That’s easy.” He proceeds to draw three trees:
The boss asks: “What the heck is this?”
Paddy replies: Tree plus tree plus tree makes 9.”
The boss responds: “Okay, here is your second question.
Use the same rules, but this time the number is 99.”
Paddy stares into space for a while, then picks up the picture that he has just drawn and makes a smudge on each tree.. “There ye go.”
The boss scratches his head and says: “How on earth do you get that to represent 99?”
Paddy replies: “Each of the trees is dirty now. So, it’s dirty tree, plus dirty tree, plus dirty tree. Dat makes 99.”
The boss is getting worried that he’s actually going to have to hire Paddy, so he says: “All right, last question. Same rules again, but represent the number 100.”
Paddy stares into space a bit, then he picks up the picture and makes a little mark at the base of each tree and says, “Here ye go. One hundred.”
The boss looks at the picture:
“You must be crazy if you think that represents a hundred!”
Paddy leans forward and points to the marks at the base of each tree and says: “A little dog came along and pooped by each tree.
So now you got dirty tree and a turd, dirty tree and a turd, and dirty tree and a turd, which makes 100.”
Paddy is now the new supervisor!
MORE IRISH HUMOR
Paddy walked into a bar on St Patrick’s Day and started ordering martini after martini.
With each drink, he removed the olives and put them in a jar.
When the jar was filled with olives and he’d finished all the drinks, Paddy started to leave.
As he did so, a curious customer asked him, “Excuse me, but what was that all about?”
“Nothing really,” replied Paddy, “My wife just sent me out for a jar of olives.”
On St Patrick’s day, Mrs. Murphy answers her door to see her husband’s best friend, Paddy, standing there.
She says, “Hello Paddy, but where’s my husband? He went with you to the beer factory”
Paddy shakes his head sadly and says, “Ah Mrs Murphy, I’m so sorry. There was a terrible accident at the beer factory. You see, your husband fell into a vat of Guinness and drowned.”
Mrs. Murphy starts sobbing, “Oh begorrah, don’t tell me that! Did he at least go quickly?”
Paddy shakes his head again and says, “No, not really. He got out 3 times to pee!”
It’s Saint Patrick’s day and an armed hooded robber bursts into the Bank of Ireland and forces the tellers to load a sack full of cash.
As the robber is leaving with the loot, one brave Irish customer grabs his hood and pulls it off revealing his face.
The robber shoots the guy dead.
He then looks around the bank to see if anyone else has seen him.
One of the tellers is looking straight at him so the robber walks over and calmly shoots him dead too.
Everyone is now terrified and looking down at the floor.
The robber shouts angrily, “Did anyone else see my face?”
There’s a brief silence then one elderly Irish man, still looking down, tentatively raises his hand and says, “I think me wife may have caught a glimpse.”
Paddy has had a little too much to drink celebrating St Patrick’s Day but nevertheless he foolishly decides to drive home.
Of course, his car is weaving all over the road and he gets pulled over by a cop.
The cop looks at him and says, “So, where have you been?”
Paddy slurs, “Why, I’ve been to the pub of course.”
“Well,” says the cop, “It look’s like you’ve had quite a few to drink this evening.”
“I did all right,” replies Paddy with a smile.
The cop stands up straight and folds his arms across his chest, as he asks, “Did you know that a few intersections back your wife fell out of your car?”
Paddy says, “Oh, thank heavens! For a minute there, I thought I’d gone deaf.”
Racing is a national pastime, I soon got accustomed to the Reverend fathers, rushing past me to get a bet on at the race track. My mate Trev spotted one Reverend father making a big fuss of a horse in the parade ring. Amazingly the horse went on to win the next race easily.
We took great interest when we saw the same Reverend father bless another horse in the next race, blow me, this horse won too. Well we were hot on the Reverend father’s coat tails for the third race and as soon as he patted a horse called Foxy Loxy, we raced off to get the best odds we could with the bookies.
Foxy Loxy was well up with the pace on the first circuit, but down the back straight for the second time, Foxy Loxy dropped to the rear. Then to our chagrin it dropped dead by the water jump.
When we went back to the bar we fell into conversation with a local, and told him the tale of the Reverend father. ‘Be gora’ he said, ‘you have to learn the difference between when Reverend Murphy is blessing a horse and when he is giving it the last rites’
An Irish priest is driving down to New York for the St Patrick’s Day parade and gets stopped for speeding in Connecticut.
The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest’s breath and then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car, so he asks the priest, “Sir, have you been drinking?”
“Just water,” says the priest.
“Then why do I smell wine?”
The priest looks at the bottle, picks it up, sniffs it and says, “Good Lord! He’s done it again!”