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The Blessed Sneeze

Kevin was the CO of the IRA training camp hidden deep in the Sperrins, and he was a fearsome disciplinarian. One day he had the men out marching. 'Left right, left right, left right' - when there came this 'Atchoo!' from the ranks.
'Halt!' he roared. 'Who sneezed?'
There was no answer but the soft whisper of the wind in the heather.
'Right, Liam,' he said to his second in command. 'Take out your Armalite and mow down everyone in the front row.'
Ratatatatatatatat went Liam's Armalite, and all the volunteers in the front row dropped down dead.
'Now,' said Kevin, 'who sneezed?'
Still there was only silence.
'Again, Liam,' said Kevin. Ratatatatatatatatat went Liam's Armalite, and everyone in the second row fell down dead.
'Now, said Kevin, 'who sneezed?'
Patrick, a timid little crature, stepped out from the end of the last row.
'Sir,' he said, 'it was me who sneezed.'
'Bless you, Patrick,' said Kevin, 'Left right, left right, left right.'


 
 


 
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