The Time (Dirty Bit) Puns

I need a name for a fictional tailoring business based in 1901 wildwest America. I want it to be funny, perhaps a bit dirty, and at least semi-original. The business will provide alterations and custom clothing. It cannot heavily reference modern pop culture.

Here's ideas so far: A stitch in time Ab-sew-lutely In stitches Beauty and the pleat

Give me your punniest recommendations!

When the interview was over the interviewer told him that all applicants had to complete a test. The interviewer took a piece of paper and drew six vertical lines in pairs of two on the paper and placed it in front of the Irishman.

“Could you please show me a clever way to make this into nine?”

After thinking for a while the Irishman took the pencil and drew a canopy of leaves on top of the three pairs of lines, and handed the paper back to the interviewer.

The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: “But that is not nine!”

“Oh yes it is”, said the Irishman with a broad Irish accent, “Tree + Tree + Tree make nine!”

The interviewer handed the paper back to the Irishman and asked him to make it 99.

After thinking for a long while the Irishman scribbled up and down the trunks and handed the paper back to the interviewer.

The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: “But that is not ninety-nine!”

“Oh yes it is”, said the Irishman, “Dirty tree + dirty tree + dirty tree make ninety-nine.”

The interviewer was now a bit cheesed off so he decided to do the Irishman once and for all, therefore, he handed the paper back to the Irishman and asked him to make it 100.

After thinking for a considerably longer time the Irishman suddenly grabbed the pencil and drew a little blop on the bottom right-hand side of each three and handed the paper back to the interviewer.

The interviewer looked at the drawings and said: “But that is not 100!”

“Oh yes it most certainly is”, said the Irishman with a much broader Irish accent,

“Dirty tree and a turd + dirty tree and turd + dirty tree and a turd, make a 100

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 -

Having a bit of a discipline issue with my daughter... she'll bring a pile of sand inside and make what she calls her "land". It's sand arranged in a flattish layer, with toy animals and her lego house (Friends^TM , why she no like diggers and helicopters and whatever, why she gotta be so girly??). She doesn't like getting her hand dirty while she's doing it, wears a glove to keep clean, so you'd think she could understand the concept that I don't like the floor getting dirty... but no, she doesn't give a shit.

Had her third birthday party recently, and gave her a Skye (Paw Patrol) plushy, she loves it. Because it's her newest and most favourite toy in the whole world, and because it was for her birthday, we can't confiscate it no matter what.

Very next day, she makes her land again, Skye's there at the side - she's too big to sit in the middle, it would dominate all the plastic dinosaurs and lego Friends people (not the usual mini-figs, they're a bit more anatomically correct, anyway that's not important right now). So I'm all angry and "why you keep doing this", take the glove off her and sweep up the sand. Put her in the time out cage for a bit. Well, we call it the cage, it's just a cupboard under the stairs which is a bit shorter than her so she has to sit there if she doesn't want to bump her head. Throw her in there for one minute per year of age, is the standard procedure.

Anyway, as we close the door she starts singing...

Take my glove

Take my land

Take me where I cannot stand

I don't care

I'm still three

You can't take this Skye from me

After many years of wandering, he finally arrived in a small village in the middle of nowhere. The people there believed in the same religion as he did, but they had no church; they had to go to the nearest one which was in a small town 25 km's from there. The priest took the initiative, asked the Church for support, and with the help of the local men they built their own temple. From there on, he was celebrating the Sunday masses, joining together men and women in Holy Matrimony, and saying prayers at the funerals.

Many years passed by like that.

At the end of an ordinary mass, in early spring, on a chilly Sunday morning he was just guiding the people out of the church, was about to close the gates when an unknown man stepped into the churchyard.

With his dirty and torn clothes, he stood before the priest and said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was a good man, and even though he thought the request was a bit strange, he went back to the rectory, took out a lemon, cut it in half, took it back to the man and gave it to him, who looked back to the priest with gratitude. However, the priest was curious. He asked:

• Son, why do you need this half of a lemon? - with a fright on his face, and before the priest could have said a thing, he rushed out of the churchyard gate and took off.

A week later, around the same time, when the priest was leaving the church, he found himself in front of the same man in the churchyard. The man said:

• Priest, please be good and give me half a lemon! - the priest was surprised by the appearance of the man and his strange request. Of course he was good, went back to the rectory, and brought the half lemon. Placed it in the stranger’s hand and immediately he asked:

• Here it is, my dear son, but please tell me why do you need this half a lemon? - the man was obviously frightened and immediately ran away but the priest was not sluggish either and ran after him. He wasn’t in a very good condition, he has never run so much and so fast before so he was out of breath by the end of the village, almost fainted. He thought the strange man might appear again next week, and it would be nice if he could keep up with him, so he spent his week working on his cardio. It turned out to be a good idea, because as he thought, the stranger entered the churchyard on Sunday. The priest didn’t even wait for the request, he was good, and brought the half lemon. He received these words from the man:

• Thank you

So, my dad could be considered a regular jokester. He had his dad jokes, his dirty jokes, clean but provocative joke, setup jokes, everything. He never missed a chance to turn something into a joke for hinself, even, and perpahs especially, if it only amused himself. I found out at an young age that no situation is too serious for him.

I was around 9 years old and I was in the cub scouts, and it was box car derby season. I was in the dining room, carving away at my block of wood when the blade in my right hand skipped the wood and carved my left thumb. It fucking hurt and bled like a sonofabitch. I immediately starting screaming and my dad raced into the room and found me covered in blood, my left hand now with two thumbs. We get it wrapped and he drives me to the emergency room. By the time we got there the bleeding had stopped and I have stopped crying. As we pull up, my dad looks st me, shakes his head and says "We can't go in there like this, we'll end up waiting forever to see a doctor. You need to cry once we're in there and that'll help" I said ok, and he said as we were walking up, "I'll give you a signal to start crying." How will i know, i asked him snd he just said i'll know. We go inside and walk up to the admittance desk. I'm short, so at the time my head just cleared the desk. My dad tells the nurse that we have a cut, and need to see a doctor right away. The nurse pushes paperwork at him and he tells her again, this time that its a real bad cut. The nurse finally looks at me for the first time and she frowns, because im relatively normal looking, even though im hurting and nervous, waiting for my dads signal. My dad pulls me back a bit and her eyes widen really big when she sees all the dried blood caked on the lower left side of my body. She starts getting excited and says "Ohmygoshohmygosh" over and over and this point im starting to get scared when my Dad, in a serious voice says "Its even worse than it looks! You're going to have to take the whole hand!"

Then I start crying.