Up north

PaulR

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Wirral, NW UK and Vaucluse, France.
A Moray farmer drives to a neighbour’s farmhoose and knocks on the door.
A loon, about 9, opens the door.
"Is yer Mither or Faither at hame?" asks the farmer.
"Nut, they went to toon fur shoppin."
"Whit aboot yer brother, Gary? Is he here?"
"Nut, he went wi Mam and Dad."
The farmer stands there for a few minutes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, mumbling to himself.
The young loon finally says, "I cain far a the tools are if ye wint to borrow ane. If at’s nae why ye’r here, I can gie Mam or Dad a message."
"Well." The farmer looks extremely uncomfortable. "I need tae talk to yer Dad aboot yer brother, Gary, getting ma daughter, Claire, pregnant."
The boy tilts his head to the side and thinks about that for a moment. "You WILL have tae talk to my Dad aboot that.” He decides. “I know he charges £50 for oor bulls to service other fowks' coos and he charges £15 for oor boars to service other fowks' sows. But av nae idea how much he charges for Gary.”
 
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