Back in the 19th Century Paddy O'Boyle came to America, and got a job helping build the transcontinental railroad. He was such a hard worker and natural leader that he rose to the presidency of the railroad, and got very rich.

His son, Richard O'Boyle, raised in luxury, went to University, and became an art professor. He married in society, thanks to his inherited wealth, and lived a great life. Except. His wife was ashamed of her husband's origins, and twisted his arm to change the name, dropping the O' at the beginning. At least not so aggressively Irish-sounding.

Their son James became a famous painter, and his name was a household word.

It's not surprising that James's son William should be interested in the field of art, but he didn't want to be just an echo of his father's famous name, so he went into ceramics. When he graduated from art school he got a job at a factory where they made creative vases and such. He was so good the boss told him to get in the display window and throw work on the wheel, attracting passersby in to buy the creative ceramics he was making.

But the boss looked, and found that, although there were customers expectantly waiting to see him work, young William was just sitting with his hands in his lap.

The boss said, "Hey! You're supposed to be demonstrating for the man in the street, to get them to come in and buy! What's the meaning of this?"

William said, "Don't you know a watched Boyle never pots?"

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That's the one and only story joke I ever wrote. The principle of turning a cliche inside out is a great hook for making a joke, although I've never been successful in doing it another time.

Dave Oesterreich