Two little old ladies, Niamh and Tara, were sitting on a park bench outside the town hall in Limerick, where the annual flower show was in full swing.
Niamh, the shorter of the two, let out a dramatic sigh. “Life’s so boring these days, Tara. We never do anything fun anymore. I’ll tell you what—if you give me €10, I’ll strip off and streak through that flower show right now!”
Tara’s eyes widened in surprise, but then a mischievous grin spread across her face. She pulled a €10 bill from her purse and waved it. “Go on, then, Niamh. Let’s see if you’ve still got it!”
With a glint in her eye, Niamh began the slow and deliberate process of undressing. She grabbed a dried flower from a nearby display, stuck it between her teeth, and with as much flair as an old lady could muster, she shuffled through the flower show doors, bare as the day she was born.
Tara stayed on the bench, biting her lip to stifle her laughter as she listened to the chaos inside—gasps, cheers, and bursts of applause filled the air. Moments later, Niamh emerged, grinning from ear to ear, her clothes draped over one arm. She was flanked by a small crowd clapping and cheering her on.
Tara blinked in astonishment. “What in the name of heaven happened in there?”
Niamh gave her a sly wink and held up a crisp €100 bill. “Turns out, I won first prize for ‘Best Dried Arrangement!’”