Red John Puns

John started working in a color pigment company which specialises in mixing and editing different color pigments according to their customers's demands. Once the color pigments were done, they would be mailed out to the customers with a detailed note commenting on the properties of the produced color pigments. John was placed in the 'Pink Pigment' department which was incidentally between the 'Red Pigment' and 'White Pigment' departments. He was really good at his job and was constantly praised for the great work he produced.

However after a month or so, John found that a number of his work was being duplicated and mailed to almost all of his customers. Worse of all, instead of a proper note commenting on the color pigment properties, these duplicated products were accompanied with rather bad puns and jokes. One repeating joke which irritated him the most was: 'What do you call a country with only pink cars? A pink car-nation.'

Upset, he went to his manager to complain about the problem. After listening to John, his manager said, "Oh boy, looks like I need to talk to the manager of the 'Red Pigment' department again. This is not the first time that it has happened. Those Red-editors in that department love to copy and repost other people's original work as their own."
John then asked, "How are you so sure that it was them who are responsible?"
His manager replied, "Well, you can be certain that it is them as they always love jokes or puns especially in the comment section."

Picture this.

A fancy Christmas dinner party at his new wife's opulent, sandstone estate house. Plates are being cleared from the lengthy, mahogony table that seats the fourteen well-to-do guests, the main course having just finished. All have feasted gloriously on our Christmas fare.

My Dad, playing the good host, picks up two bottles of wine, one white and one red, and proceeds to do a round of the table, chatting amiably with everyone as he circles. Those whose glasses are less than 90% full, he proceeds to top-up. I am sitting in the very centre of the long table, seated directly opposite a very well off lady in her early sixties, by the name of Margaret. My dad, having just topped off my glass, is now standing directly behind me.

This older woman, full of grace and charm, looks to my Dad and says, "Thank you so much for this glorious meal, John. It's been simply divine."

My Dad, "Not at all, Margaret, not at all. Could I charge your glass?"

Margaret, "Oh, no no, thank you. I've got the bottle in front of me!"

My Dad, quick of wit, and with a sneaky - yet charming - grin on his face, responds, "Ah, well, better that than a frontal lobotomy!"

I've never been more proud of him.