Hunting for ducks

Hunting for ducks

Curly went hunting one day up in the Northern Territory and bagged three ducks.  He put them in the back of his Pickup and was about to drive home when he was confronted by a surly Territory game warden who didn’t like hunters.

The warden ordered Curly to show his hunting licence, so Curly pulled out a valid Northern Territory licence.  The game warden looked at the licence, then reached over and picked up one of the ducks, sniffed its bum and said, “This duck ain’t from The Territory.  This is a Queensland duck.  You got a Queensland huntin’ licence?”

Curly reached into his wallet and produced a Queensland licence.  The game warden looked at it, then reached over and grabbed the second duck, sniffed its bum, and said “This ain’t a Queensland duck.  This duck’s from West Australia.  You got a West Australian huntin’ licence?”

Curly reached into his wallet and produced a West Australian hunting licence.  The warden then reached over and picked up the third duck, sniffed its bum, and said, “This ain’t a Western Australian duck.  This duck’s from South Australia.  You got a South Australian Huntin’ licence?”

Again Curly reached into his wallet and brought out a South Australian licence.  The game warden was extremely frustrated at this point, and he yelled at Curly “just where the hell are you from?”

Curly smiled, turned around, bent over, dropped his pants, and said, *”You tell me.  You’re the expert…”*

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