Mulla Nasrudin Part III

 

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Mulla Nasrudin: “A pack of cigarettes, please.” Clerk: “Yes, Sir, regular or king size?” Nasrudin: “King size.” Clerk: “Filter or plain?” Nasrudin: “Filter.” Clerk: “Menthol or non-menthol?” Nasrudin: “Non-menthol.” Clerk: “Pack or box?” Nasrudin: “Box.” Clerk: “Turkish blend or — ” Nasrudin: “FORGET IT PLEASE! I JUST GAVE UP!”

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Mulla Nasrudin and his wife were talking about a neighbour. “I have never heard a man talk so fast in all my life,” said the wife. “THAT ‘ S NOT SURPRISING, ” said Nasrudin. “HIS FATHER WAS A POLITICIAN AND HIS MOTHER WAS A WOMAN. ”

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Invited to stop for a drink with his friends following the lodge meeting, Mulla Nasrudin said he had to hurry home. “I can’t stop,” he said, “I have got to go home and explain to my wife.” “Explain what?” one of his friends asked. “I DON’T KNOW,” said Nasrudin, “I AM NOT HOME YET.”

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Mulla Nasrudin fainted on the street and a crowd quickly gathered. “Give him air!” shouted a man. “Clear the way. Hurry up someone, get him a drink!” Nasrudin’s eyes fluttered open and he gasped, “PLEASE, MAKE IT A DOUBLE MARTINI.”

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Mulla Nasrudin’s wife was sitting down to breakfast one morning when she read an announcement of her own death in the newspaper. She quickly called Mulla Nasrudin who was outside the town and said: “Have you read the morning paper, Mulla? And, did you see the announcement of my death?” “YES,” said Nasrudin. “WHERE ARE YOU CALLING FROM?”

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“This is a lesson in logic,” said the old philosopher in the teahouse. “If the show starts at nine and dinner is at six and my son has the measles, and my brother drives a Cadillac, how old am I?” “You are eighty-four,” replied Mulla Nasrudin promptly. “Right,” said the philosopher. “Now tell the rest of the fellows here how you arrived at the correct answer.” “IT’S EASY,” said Nasrudin. “I HAVE GOT AN UNCLE WHO IS FORTY-TWO AND HE IS ONLY HALF NUTS!”

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“This book,” said the salesman, “will do half your work for you.” “FINE,” said Mulla Nasrudin. “I WILL TAKE TWO OF THEM.”

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A policeman stopped drunk Mulla Nasrudin and said to him, “Do you know who I am?” “I CAN’T SAY THAT I DO,” said Nasrudin, “BUT IF YOU WILL TELL ME WHERE YOU LIVE, I WILL HELP YOU GET HOME.”

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Mulla Nasrudin kept begging the noted pianist to play. “Well, all right, since you insist,” he said. “What shall I play?” “ANYTHING YOU LIKE,” said Nasrudin. “IT’S ONLY TO ANNOY THE NEIGHBOURS.”

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Mulla Nasrudin’s wife used to give the Mulla a regular inspection every night when he came home. Every hair she discovered on his coat would be cause for a terrible scene. One evening, when she didn’t find a single hair, she screamed at him, “NOW YOU ARE EVEN RUNNING AFTER BALD-HEADED WOMEN.”

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