Three body force Puns

The friar puts a sign outside that said ‘bell ringer wanted, tryouts Saturday morning’

Saturday morning rolls around, and there were three people lined up out front of the church waiting to try to ring the bell. A tall, muscular man, a skinnier, frail man, and an average sized man.

The friar took them all up one at a time and handed them the hammer to hit the church bells with.

The muscular man grabbed the hammer in one hand, slammed it into the bell, and nearly shattered both with the force behind the swing. The friar said that they’ll have to keep looking.

The frail man could barley pick up the hammer. He swung it pitifully, and managed to ting the bell. The friar just shook his head and chuckled, thanking the man for coming.

The average sized man refused the hammer. Before the friar could question it, the man reared his head back and slammed it into the bell, producing a ring of such pure tone and quality it brought a tear to the friar’s eye. While he was wiping the tear from his face, the man, stumbling from the impact of skull to bell, accidentally tripped and fell off the bell tower to his death.

Well, the townsfolk had heard the beautiful bell, and a small crowd had gathered beneath the bell tower around the man’s body.

Collectively, they said “Who is he Friar? What happened?”

The friar shook his head sadly and said

“I don’t know, but his face rings a bell”

BUT IT ISN’T OVER CAUSE THEY STILL NEED A BELL RINGEE ROUND TWO KIDDOS HERE WE GO!!

So the next morning, when the friar opened the doors in the morning, a man approached him and said “Friar, you don’t know me, but the man who died yesterday was my brother. I’d be honored if you’d let me ring the bell today in his honor.”

The friar nodded and let the new man up the bell tower, handing him the hammer.

With a nightly swing, the man slammed the bell, producing again a high quality ringing tone. Unfortunately, he slipped while off balance and fell off the bell tower too and died.

Again, people were gathered around and they all asked as one “Who is he, Friar, what happened?”

The friar looked at them all in turn and said “I don’t know, but he’s a dead ringer for his brother”

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