I have heard it said that there are four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire, and though the holes were rather small, they had to count them all. Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall
A Polo mint is sitting in the pub having a quiet pint with his mate, Trebor. Suddenly, in walks Tune, who struts around the pub looking for a seat, but all the seats are taken. He walks up to Polo, pushes him off the seat and sits down. Polo walks out, followed by Trebor. "What did you let him do that for?" Asks Trebor, "You don't want to let a mint like that push you about". "Yeah!" says Polo, "But that's Tune, and I'm not going to upset him!". "Why the hell not?" queries Trebor. "Because he's Menthol".
I have heard it said that there are four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire, and though the holes were rather small, they had to count them all. Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall
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