Love Backed by Force Puns

One cold winter's morning he was walking along a country road, when he heard a cry for help from a nearby lake.

He turned to see a little girl struggling in the broken ice in the middle of the lake. She'd been skating and had fallen into the icy water. Without a moment's hesitation the tramp ran onto the ice and slipped and slided over to the little girl. He managed to pull her out without breaking the ice further and he carried her back to the road.

He took off his coat and wrapped the little girl in it and began looking for a car to flag down. A few moments later a huge chauffeur-driven limo pulled up, and who stepped out but the little girl's father - the mayor of the nearby town and a multi-millionaire.

"How can I ever thank you sir?" says the father after putting his daughterinto the warmth of the limo.

"Just name your price - I'm a wealthy man."

"Ahem, well ..." stammered the tramp "...eh I'm a little short of cash, perhaps you could help me out"

"Certainly" says the girl's father and he pulls out his wallet.

"Oh dear" says the father, "I don't carry much cash with me, I only have ten dollars - but come home with me and I'll get more from the safe"

"No! No!" says the tramp, "Why ten dollars is more money than I've seen in my whole life - that will be plenty".

"Well, if you insist" says the father - "now what will you do with your money?"

"Oh that's easy" says the tramp "I've not had a rest in 20 years. I think I'll buy myself a holiday"

"Well good luck" says the father, and he gets into the car and signals his chauffeur to drive home.

"Ten Dollars" thinks the tramp, "I'm rich! I'm rich!", and off he goes to the town, to buy himself a holiday.

He finds a travel agent, walks in - much to the disgust of the staff - and goes up to the desk.

"I'll have one holiday please!"

"Ahem, which holiday would sir like" asked the girl at the desk, forcing a smile.

"Oh, any holiday I don't mind" replied the tramp.

"Well how much money does sir have to spend on sir's holiday?"

"Oh lots - anything up to ten dollars"

"TEN DOLLARS!! You'll never get a holiday for ten dollars" says the girl incredulously.

"Oh dear" said the tramp, "and I was so looking forward to a holiday - I'll probably never get another chance - isn't there anything you can do?"

"Well I don't think so sir, but hold on and I'll check"

The girl goes into the back of the shop, and searches in the deepest, dustiest filing drawers she can find. There - to her amazement -

People ask me sometimes, they say ( because they are wise to seek my counsel on this matter), "how is it that Norsemen came to be known as "Norwegians"?"

You see, back in days of Yore, when Norsemen first got it in their heads that the Brits and the Picts were a puny lot, ripe for the harvest so to speak, they first scouted the area by pretending to be tourists. They found themselves a nice sidewalk cafe operated by a couple limey weasels, and set their boots heavily on the outdoor table and ordered up a corned beast suitable to their needs. And ale. They needed some ale. You can't smash a horn down and demand "more ale, wench!" In a loud, commanding voice if you haven't had any in the first place.

The waitress was a slip of a lass, dark-complected, demure and quiet to match her appearance. She stammered out that, being a Green Initiative business, Ale was not only unavailable but philosophically out of place. But they had some lovely tea with a hint of lavender...

Thorrfin Skullsplitter leaned forward at this news, and bellowed, "we are not teetotalers!", pounding his fist on the iron-lace table.

Lenny Mcgreasel, one of the cafe's two owners, heard the commotion and injected his condescending, servile whine to the conversation, "is there anything we can bring the large gentlemen from our menu?", gesticulating to the hand-crafted hemp/flaxseed menu depicting what could only be described as a garden, rather than a list of things to eat.

Thorrfin's mate, Snorri Log-Bender, immediately ordered, as if he'd been thinking about this moment for some time, "what I'd like is to have some bacon salad"

Thorrfin was still muttering in his beard over not being a teetotaler. " I'm sorry sir, we only serve as food that which has grown fresh from the garden"' the waitress chirped. That was the last straw. With a shove of his boot, and a full dose of disgust, the table flew backwards.

"C'mon, Snorri", he said in disgust, and he stood, once again emoting, "we are not teetotalers"

Just then another small-faced waitress popped around the corner carrying tofu laced with kale and and whole-grain brown rice. Snorri saw his chance, and with a face of disgust he emoted,

"Nor Vegans"

And with that they bid their their host a hostile farewell, only to return two weekends later with a fully armed force of Vikings,- and established what would become the preeminent fast food of a millennia, fish and chips, served only with the darkest stout.

To hear the Engl