A man is hiking across the moors, when a terrible storm hits.

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A man is hiking across the moors, when a terrible storm hits. The driving rain and howling winds attack him for hours before he eventually stumbles across a tiny isolated hamlet and thankfully takes refuge in their pub.

Seated at the bar, the heat of the fireplace drying his socks, the man orders a pint from the barkeep. After he's been nursing his drink for a while one of the locals in the pub stands up and shouts "Forty-three!" Everyone in the pub starts chuckling and his mates clap him on the shoulder as he sits down.

Another halfhour later another local stands up and shouts "Twenty-two!" and again everyone in the pub laughs.

The traveller is very confused by now, so when a short while later yet another local stands up and shouts out a number to riotous laughter, her calls over the barkeep.
"Barman," the traveller asks, "Why is everyone laughing at these random numbers?"
"Well sir," the barman explains, "this is a very isolated village, and everybody here has heard everyone elses' jokes hundreds of times. So to save time instead of repeating the same jokes we all know repeatedly, we assigned each of the jokes a number and just say that instead."

"I see," says the man. "Alright, I'll have a go."

The traveller finishes his pint, stands up, and loudly shouts "Forty-one!" to the locals.

>For punchline A, please click here:
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>For punchline B, please click here:
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