Piccole letture in chiave umoristica e/o filosofica
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One day a garda stopped at a farm in County Galway and went up to the old farmer who was milking his cows.
“I have to inspect your farm for illegally grown drugs,” he asserted brusquely.
“That’s fine,” answered the old farmer with a smile, “but whatever you do, don’t go into that field over there.”
“I will go wherever I want!” exploded the garda. “I have the authority of the Garda Síochána with me!” Putting his hand into his back pocket, the hot-headed garda pulled out his badge and proudly displayed it to the farmer.
“See this badge? This badge means that I can go wherever I want, whenever I want! No questions asked, no answers given! Do you understand old man?”
The farmer nodded gently, apologised, and carried on milking his cows.
A few minutes later, the farmer heard a loud scream. Looking up, he saw the garda running for his life with the farmer’s big bull, McCabe, hot on his heels.
With every step the bull was gaining ground on the garda and it was clear that he would be gored before he managed to reach safety. The garda was clearly terrified.
The old farmer jumped up from his stool and ran as fast as he could towards the field, yelling at the top of his voice: “Your badge! Show him your badge!”