A list of puns related to "Brew Tea"
involves a steep learning curve.
... and they are now trapped in a kettle.
It is now my special-tea
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
... keep reading on reddit ➡Police brew Tally tea.
A Scandinavian farmer discovered that brewing herbs and spices and mixing it with some sugar made for an excellent and healthy way to start the day.
He called it Svede tea
It's my special tea.
Because he brews-all-my-tea.
Because it brews all my tea.
Truly, brewed tea was in the eye of the bee-holder.
Brewed Tea is in the eye of the Bee Holder
Listen now to the story of the two brothers Hing and Ming. Each was devoted to the search for ultimate wisdom, but they differed greatly on how it was to be found. One day their pet chicken fell ill, began to molt, and soon lost all of its feathers! The brothers decided that this would be an ideal test case and agreed to each spend two months trying to cure the chicken. Hing immediately went back to the university. Having boned up on ornithology and traditional Chinese medicine, he decided that the answer was a prescription of gum-tree leaf tea. He gathered bushels of the tea leaves, brewed gallons of the tea, and poured it into the chicken for the two months.
Meanwhile, Ming traveled all around China, praying at the shrines of his ancestors. One night he had a dream. His ancestors appeared and told him to feed the chicken tea made from gum-tree leaves!!!
Ming, aware of his brother’s lack of success, decided that the problem was quantity. He gathered whole CARTLOADS of leaves, and brewed BARRELS of the tea, and poured them into the chicken for the two months. At the end of the time, the poor chicken was still as naked as a bowling ball.
Moral: All of Hing’s courses, and all of Ming’s kin; couldn’t make gum tea re-feather a hen!
Please note that this site uses cookies to personalise content and adverts, to provide social media features, and to analyse web traffic. Click here for more information.