This bad pun dates back to 1998, as a result of a very fortuitous circumstance unlikely to happen again. I was in Newfoundland at the time, and had met and become friends with a younger couple at Church, Doug and Helena Jole (they have remained internet friends since that time). Also at Church there was a somewhat eccentric older lady who ran a charitable boarding house. Her eccentricity was gentle and typified by the long and pious name of the boarding house: I no longer recall the name exactly (and it isn’t important for the pun) but it was the kind of name that you feel bad that you are sniggering about behind your hand, but snigger you do. One day she invited us to a dinner, attended by a relatively large group of people, and we were all crowded around the table, with Doug, Helena and I jammed into one corner.
As I acknowledged the squashiness to Helena and Doug, I noted that we were sitting “Chick by Jole”.
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