Curly went hunting one day up in The Northern Territory' and bagged three ducks.
He put them in the back of his Ute and was about to drive home when he was confronted by a surly Territory game warden who didn't like smart alecs.
The warden ordered Curly to show his hunting license, so Curly pulled out a valid Northern Territory license.
The game warden looked at the license, then reached over and picked up one of the ducks, sniffed its bum and said,
"This duck ain't from The Territory. This is a Queensland duck.
You got a Queensland huntin' license?"
Curly reached into his wallet and produced a Queensland license.
The game warden looked at it, then reached over and grabbed the second duck, sniffed its bum, and said
"This ain't a Queensland duck. This duck's from West Australia.
You got a West Australian license?"
Curly reached into his wallet and produced a West Australian hunting license.
The warden then reached over and picked up the third duck,
Sniffed its bum, and said, "This ain't a Western Australian duck.
This duck's from South Australia. You got a South Australian Huntin license?" Again Curly reached into his wallet and brought out a
South Australian license.
The game warden was extremely frustrated at this point, and he yelled at Curly
"Just where the hell are you from?"
Curly smiled, turned around, bent over, dropped his pants, and said,
"You tell me, you're the expert..."
Last edited by KBs PensNmore; 10th Oct 2016 at 06:15 PM.
Reason: Too Small a Print for us Oldies
To grow old is mandatory, growing up is optional.