Funny Joke: The Tale of Graham Tucker

The Tale of Graham Tucker

On a gusty day, with fog shrouding the highland heath, a visitor found his way into a tiny Scottish hamlet. There, he encountered an old man with a face weathered by time, sitting on a wall, his gaze lost in the expanse before him.

His voice, as coarse as the gales that swept across the moors, shattered the quietude. “Do ye see that bridge over there, young man?” He pointed with a twisted finger toward an elegant stone bridge that spanned a glistening stream. “I built that bridge, from the first stone to the last, all by myself.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Do they call me Angus MacLeod, the Bridge Builder? No.”

The old man’s eyes then moved to a charming church adorned with creeping ivy, perched on a rise. “And that church, right there. That’s my handiwork too. I laid every single brick, through sunshine and storms. It took me almost ten years. But do they call me Angus MacLeod, the Church Builder? Never.”

Angus gestured toward a serpentine road that meandered through the valleys and over the hills. “And that road, that’s my crowning achievement. I spent every day working on it, from my youth. I picked each stone meticulously so it would provide a smooth journey by carriage or on foot. But do they call me Angus MacLeod, the Road Builder? No, they don’t.”

He paused, a hint of melancholy in his eyes as he took in the view of the village he had shaped with his own two hands. “But you have a romantic encounter with one single sheep…”

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