Sit Furniture Puns

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

This happened ever since I was a pup.

The doctor told me to sit down, but I’m not allowed in furniture.

I plan on having a beer outside sitting on our Paddy O'Furniture.

My dad sees this sign and asks my brother and I: "What Irish person sits on your porch?" My brother and I couldn't guess it so he told us: "Patty 'O Furniture"

So, I used to have this cousin who lived in the country side. He subsistenced farmed, but worked as a carpenter before hand. He kept a few pieces of furniture, most notably his chair that he called his throne. So one day, he puts his throne on his roof, and its a grass house. He sits on said throne, that's on the roof. After sitting for a while he goes back down to get something to eat. As he climbs down, the chair falls through the ceiling, killing him. The Moral of the story? Don't stow thrones on grass houses.

A week ago I just purchased a condo. After closing my parents met me at the empty condo, and we had lunch. While waiting for the locksmith to rekey the locks, we moved in a patio loveseat and 1 camping chair, and put them temporarily in the main room for us to sit. Everything else would be moved in the next day.

Locksmith comes, and while he is working on the back door we sit down. My dad turns to me and says "You've got enough money to pay the locksmith." The locksmith pauses and looks at me as I say "Yes". Dad then says:

"I'm proud of you for being able to get this place. And don't worry, I'm sure one day you'll be able to afford furniture."

The locksmith looks uncomfortable and moves to a different door. My dad then just starts laughing uncontrollably. I just stare at him in shock, it was so well delivered. And hey! The locksmith gave me a discount as he felt sorry for me.

Dad just walked in with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face to tell me this joke.

"What do you call an Irishman sitting on his front porch?"

"Paddy O'Furniture"