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The Tale of The Wife and the Potato

I’ll start this little tale by telling you my wife is a bit of a hygiene freak.
Drop a knife on a pristine floor and you can’t just pick it up, give it a quick wipe and carry on eating – No. it has to go through the dishwasher.

Use the same mug for a cup of tea that you had earlier – No way, through the dishwasher.

That Potato has been on the floor!

So there I was getting a bag of potatoes from out of the cupboard when one fell on the floor.

As I picked it up and plopped it back in with the others the look on my wife’s face told me I was in trouble.

“You’ve just mixed that potato back up with the others” she said.

“I won’t know which one it was now” she goes on to say.

    “Does it matter?” says I

“Does it matter, does it matter of course it matters it’s been on the ground”

    “And where do you think all the others have come from?” I replied

“They pick them and bag them up” was her reply

I didn’t have the heart to tell her potatoes don’t grow on bushes, but you have to dig them out of the ground.

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