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Other (page 15)Other tasks. These are the tasks listed 141 to 150. |

Jokes about St. Patrick's Day
Two Irishmen were walking home after a night on the beer when a severed head rolled along the ground. Mick picked it up to his face and said to Paddy "Jez, that look like Sean" to which Paddy replied "No Sean was taller than that"
It was Paddy and Seamus giving the motorcycle a ride on a brisk autumn day. After a wee bit, Paddy who was sitt'n behind Seamus on the bike began to holler ..."Seamus ... Seamus ... the wind is cutt'n me chest out!" "Well, Paddy my lad," said Seamus, "why don't you take your jacket off and turn it from front to back ... that'll block the wind for you." So Paddy took Seamus' advice and turned his jacket from front to back and got back on the bike and the two of them were off down the road again. After a bit, Seamus turned to talk to Paddy and was horrified to see that Paddy was not there. Seamus immediately turned the bike around and retraced their route. When after a short time he came to a turn and saw a bunch of farmers standing around Paddy who was sitting on the ground. "T'anks be to heaven, is he alright?" Seamus hailed to the farmers. "Well," said one of the farmers, " he was alright when we found him here .. but since we turned his head back to front .. he hasn't said a word since!"
I can sizzle like bacon, I a...
I can sizzle like bacon, I am made with an egg, I have plenty of backbone, but lack a good leg, I peel layers like onions, but still remain whole, I can be long, like a flagpole, yet fit in a hole. What am I? I'm by nature solitary, scar...
I'm by nature solitary, scarred by spear and wounded by sword, weary of battle. I frequently see the face of war, and fight hateful enemies; yet I hold no hope of help being brought to me in the battle, before I'm eventually done to death. In the stronghold of the city sharp-edged swords, skilfully forged in the flame by smiths, bite deeply into me. I can but await a more fearsome encounter; it is not for me to discover in the city any of those doctors who heal grievous wounds with roots and herbs. The scars from sword wounds gape wider and wider; death blows are dealt to me by day and by night. What am I?
