Three's a Crowd Puns

Nine.

Trevor loved tractors. And I mean, really loved tractors. Forget any obsessions or high-level interests you may have, chances are they pale in the face of Trevor’s love for tractors.

Every day Trevor would get up, in his tractor-themed bedroom in his tractor-themed house, with its tractor-themed wallpaper and tractor-themed carpets, and he would make his bed with its tractor-themed duvet and tractor-themed sheets. He would go downstairs in his tractor-themed pajamas into his tractor-themed kitchen, with its tractor-themed tiles and cupboards, and he would eat his breakfast while perusing the latest tractor-themed magazine or annual.

Trevors’s degree in Agricultural Engineering hung on his living room wall, along with a copy of his thesis, which centred around (you guessed it) tractors. The living room was decorated with all sorts of tractor-related trinkets, including die-cast models, paintings and drawings.

The hedges in Trevor’s front garden were trimmed in the shape of tractors. His lawn was vividly decorated with tractor-driving garden gnomes, and his garden furniture was constructed from various parts from vintage tractor designs.

Trevor just had one thing missing from his otherwise tractor-centric life; he had never actually owned, nor driven, a real tractor.

Not for his lack of trying, of course. Trevor had been to many tractor shows over the years, and visited many farms with friends of his, but none of the tractors he had seen had ever been quite right. Trevor was so knowledgeable about tractors that every single one he had come across had possessed some hidden trait that he wasn’t keen on. His first experience of driving a real tractor had to be perfect.

One day, Trevor was flicking through one of his favourite publications, Powertrain Quarterly, when there was a knock at the door. Trevor answered, and it was his friend and fellow tractor enthusiast, Jeff.

Trevor welcomed Jeff in, and over tea and crumpets served on tractor-themed crockery, they discussed the merits of aluminium drawbars and front-end loaders. Eventually Trevor pressed Jeff to explain the reason for his visit.

“Well” said Jeff, “As I’m sure you know the convention comes to town later”.

The convention. Trevor had been thinking of little else the past three weeks. The neighbouring town annually threw a convention for farmers, particularly farmyard machinery. There would be combine harvesters, lawnmowers, and of course, tractors.

“Yes of course” replied Trevor

And they interviewed an applicant named Stan. Stan had no arms due to an accident so the hiring manager asked how he would ever be able to do the job.

"I'll show you",said Stan.

They walked up flight after flight of stairs to the Bell tower all the while the manager wondered how Stan would ever be able to do the job. His questions were soon answered when after reaching the Bell tower, Stan took off running striking the bell face first. Gooong goes the bell. Stan picks himself up, takes off running face first at the bell, Gooong.

"Hold, on. You'll hurt yourself."

"I'm tough," said Stan, " "and I really needed this job"

"Ok," said the manager, leaving Stan to do the job.

All day the bell rang on the hour correctly and the manager thought too soon that he had misjudged Stan. Finally, at six in the evening there were only three gongs, then a commotion. Going out to see what was going on he found Stan dead on the street below. Apparently he had become disoriented from head trauma and missed the bell entirely falling to the street below.

"Who was this man, Who was he?" asked the crowd.

Not wanting to admit liability for the accident, the manager said "I don't know."

"But his face sure rings a bell"

(From Abbott and Costello’s radio show, December 30, 1943)
Lou Costello: Oh, Abbott, the worst thing just happened to me!
Bud Abbott: No!
Lou Costello: Yeah, Mrs. Niles gave me a dog for a Christmas present, and the dog just took a great big bite out of me!
Bud Abbott: Where did he bite you?
Lou Costello: Well, if I’d have been wearing a license plate, he’d have gotten the last three numbers.
Bud Abbott: Where did this happen?
Lou Costello: Well, let me see, where did this happen — in a crowded streetcar. It was the first time I ever gave my seat to a dog.
Bud Abbott: Well, never mind that. What kind of a dog did Mrs. Niles give you?
Lou Costello: Do you remember that famous dog, Strongheart?
Bud Abbott: Yes, I remember Strongheart.
Lou Costello: Well, this is his brother — Weak Stomach.
Bud Abbott: Listen, I’m not talking about that. What is the dog’s breed?
Lou Costello: What does he breed? He breeds through his nose, like you and me!
Bud Abbott: No, no, no, you dummy, what kind of dog is he? Spitz?
Lou Costello: No, but he drools a little.
Bud Abbott: Look, there are different types of dogs, such as Setters, and Pointers, …
Lou Costello: That’s it, Abbott! He’s a Setter-Pointer!
Bud Abbott: A Setter-Pointer?
Lou Costello: Yeah, he sets all day and points at the icebox! (Editor’s note: we now call an “icebox” a “refrigerator”)

There was a poetry slam competition final between a university scholar and a country person.

Both had one minute to think of a poem that had to have timbuktu in it

The university student goes first and says:

slowly across the desert sand

trekking a lonely caravan

men on camels two by two

destination Timbuktu

and the crowd went wild. then it was the country mans turn to go

he said:

Tim and I hunting we went

met three girls in a pop up tent

they were three and we were two

so i bucked one and timbuktu

Who won?

The Englishman and Cowboy were tied in a contest of who was better, when the crowd decided that, as a tie breaker, they were to perform a live poem and incorporate the words "Hunting" and "Timbuktu."

The Englishman went first:

"The hunting is always grand, When in search of good land. Off in the caravan we pursue, Looking, for Timbuktu."

The crowd went wild, knowing that the cowboy couldn't win the contest, the Englishmans poem was just too good. He smiled as well, and stood aside for the cowboy.

The cowboy paused for a moment as if remembering something, then recited:

"Well it was Tim and I, off huntin we went, When I spied three women in a tent. I motioned to Tim, and he saw them too, Then I bucked one, and Timbuktu."

This has long been one of my favorite jokes. I'd credit the original writer if I could:

The finals of the National Poetry Contest last year came down to two finalists. One was literature student from Harvard. The other finalist was a lineman from Alabama. They each would have one minute to compose a poem rhyming the word "Timbuktu."

They drew straws, and Princeton student was to go first. He sat and thought for a few seconds, then spoke into the microphone: "Slowly across the desert sand Trekked the dusty caravan. Men on camels, two by two Destination -- Timbuktu.”

The crowd went wild, certain the Alabama kid was done for. The clock started, and he just stared at the crowd. Then, when everyone thought he was finished, out of nowhere he said:

“Tim and me, a-huntin' went. Met three girls in a pop-up tent. They was three, we was two, So I bucked one and Timbuktu!”