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Old Sean 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 CHRIST'S 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 apologized 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
 
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