THIS cracked me up.

I'm reading a new book - not sure if I'm going to like it or be able to finish it, but on the 2nd page I started laughing... and continued laughing for quite awhile. I'll let you read and see if you find it nearly as funny as I did.

"Excuse me." Barry stepped into the path of the oncoming cyclist. "Excuse me." The cyclist wobbled, braked, and stood, one foot on the ground and the other on a pedal. For a moment Barry wndered if his hopes of meeting a leprechaun hadbeen fulfilled. "Good afternoon," he said.

He was addressing a gangly youth, innoncent face half hidden under a Paddy hat, but not hidden well enough to disguise a set of buckteeth that Barry decided would be the enfy of every hare in the Six Counties. He carried a pitchfork over one shoulder and wore a back worsted waistcoat over a collarless shirt His tweed trousers were tied at the knees with leather thongs that the locals called "nicky tams."

"Grand day," he remarked.

"It is."

"Och, aye. Grand. Hay's coming along fine, so it is." The youth picked his nose.

"I wonder if you could help me?"

"Aye?" The cyclist lifted his hat and scratched his ginger hair."Maybe."

"I'm looking for Ballybucklebo."

"Ballybucklebo?" His brow knitted, and the head scratching increased.

"Can you tell me how to get there?"

"Ballybucklebo?" He pursed his ips. "Boys-a-boys, thon's a grand wee place, so it is."

Barry tried not to let his growing exasperation show. "I'm sure it is, but I have to get there by five."

"Five? Today, like?"

"Mmm." Barry bit back the words, "No. In the year 2000." He waited.

The youth fumbled in the fob pocket of his waistcoat, produced a pocketwatch, and consulted it, frowning and muttering to himself. He looked at Barry. "Five? You've no much time left."

"I know that. If you could just--"

"Ballybucklebo?"

"Please?"

"Och, aye." He pointed to the road that lay straight ahead. "Take that road."

"That one?"

"Aye. Foow your nose 'til you cme to Willy John McCoubrey's red barn."

"Red barn. Right."

"Now you don't turn there."

"Oh."

"Not at all. Keep right on. You'll see a black-and-white cow in a field -- uness Willy John has her in the red barn for milking. Now go past her, and take the road to your right." As he spoke, the youth pointed to the left side of the road.

Barry felt a mite confused. "First right past the black and white cow?"

"That's her," he said, continuing to point to the left. "From there on, it's only a wee doddle. Mind you, sir..." He started to mount his rusty machine. Then he delivered the rest of the scentence with the soemnity of a priest giving the Benediction: "...if I'd been you, I wouldn't have tried to get to Balybucklebo from here in the first place."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

From Patrick Taylor's An Irish Country Doctor, pp. 15-17.

Other than the obvious, any ideas why this section of the book made me laugh so hard?