Old Seán lived alone in Ireland. He wanted to spade his potato garden, but
it was very hard work.
His only son, Mick, who used to help him, was in an English prison.
The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament:
Dear Mick,
I am feeling a bit down because it looks like I won't be able to plant
me potato garden this year.
I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot.
If you were here, all my troubles would be over. I know you would dig the
plot for me.
Love,
Dad
A few days later he received a letter from his son:
Dear Dad,
For feck sake, don't dig up the garden! That's where I buried all
them f****n' BODIES!
Your loving son,
Mick
At 4am the next morning, a dozen agents from Scotland Yard and local police
officers showed up and dug up the entire garden down to a depth of about six feet.
That evening, not finding any bodies, they apologised to the old man and
left.
A few days later the old man received another letter from his son:
Dear Dad,
Go ahead and plant yer spuds now. It's the best I could do under the
circumstances.
Love
Mick
