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John and David run the local woodyard. It is full of wood, unsurprisingly. As well as lots of ancient Fordson tractors, two-man chainsaws, hand tools of no known purpose, froes, axes, engine parts, tyres, bark peelers, band saws, and assorted other ironmongery.

A man drove into the yard the other day. The conversation went like this…

Man:  You got any branches?

John: No. This is the only one.

Man: No I mean branches. Off of trees.

John: No.

Man: Why not?

John: Because we don’t keep branches. Just posts. And logs. Do you want them?

Man: No. I want branches.

John: What for?

Man: To put on my roof.

John: What do you want branches on your roof for?

Man: To keep seagulls off.

So John grabbed his chainsaw and hopped over the fence into the wood, lopped three fifteen foot branches with lots of twiggy bits on them, dragged them back and strapped them to the roof of the man’s small saloon car. £10 lighter, the man drove off, his car invisible underneath waving branches.

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