A backpacker finds a tiny village tucked away in the mountains with one tiny pub.

He walks into the pub and there are all these old men just sitting around in silence.

So the backpacker orders a beer and finds himself a seat.

Suddenly one of the men shouts, “Number 4!” and the whole room erupts with laughter.

The backpacker is surprised by this but then the laughter dies down and he goes back to sipping his pint.

Then another one of them shouts, “Number 21!” and once again everybody has a good laugh.

The backpacker turns to someone and asks what’s going on.

“Ah you see we’re a bit isolated out here”, the man says. “We all know each other’s jokes so well we decided to give them all a number to save time when we want to tell them.”

The backpacker gets a mischievous look on his face. He stands up and shouts, “Number 1001!”

It was like an earthquake had hit. The whole room reverberated with the men’s voices, some of them slapping their thighs and almost falling off their chairs.

As the laughter died down some of them were pressing their hands to their chests, just to make sure they weren’t having a heart attack.

The backpacker turns to the man next to him and says, “So is that one of the good ones?”

The man says, “Oh no, it’s just that we’d never heard that one before.”