One for you oldies out there...

Many years ago, (when I wore a younger man’s clothes,) I used to go out welding cow-sheds over the winter months for various builders. (It’s called ‘cash-flow’,) and on one particular job the son of friends of ours was working there too.
The son of Mary and Phillip Beer, they’d named him ‘Edward’. That was mean and thoughtless of them.. (Which is an indication of the calibre/IQ of our friends.) Of course he got called ‘Teddy’

Teddy was a drainlayer by trade, and the terrain on this particular site was pretty boney; so there was a lot of pick and shovel work for him to do.

One afternoon, after 3:00 smokeoh (a Downunder term for morning and afternoon tea breaks,) Teddy and I came out of the caravan together.
“Look at that,” said Teddy, pointing, “some rotten mongrel has nicked my pick!”
And sure enough; it was gone. Vanished entirely.
“Aha!” I said. “What’s today?”
“Tuesday,” said Teddy.
“That explains it;” I replied, “Tuesday’s the day the Teddy Beers have their picks nicked…”