Doyle Jokes

  • Funny Jokes

    Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of the world-famous detective Sherlock Holmes, was not above telling tales about himself in which he was the laughing-stock.

    In one situation, he was waiting at a taxi stand outside the railway station in Paris. When a taxi pulled up, he placed his suitcase in the car and took a seat next to it.

    "Where can I take you, Mr. Doyle?" asked the taxi driver.

    Doyle was flabbergasted. He asked the driver whether he knew him by sight.

    "No, sir, I have never seen you before."

    The puzzled Doyle asked him how he knew he was Conan Doyle.

    "This morning's paper had a story about you being on vacation in Marseilles. This is the taxi-stand where people who return from Marseilles always come to. Your skin color tells me you have been on vacation. The ink-spot on your right index finger suggests to me that you're a writer. Your clothing is very English, and not French. And so, I more...

    Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of the world-famous detective, Sherlock Holmes, was not above telling tales about himself in which he was the laughing-stock. Here is one of those stories.

    As he tells it, he was waiting at a taxi- stand outside the railway station in Paris. When a taxi pulled up, he put his suitcase in it and got in himself. As he was about to tell the taxi-driver where he wanted to go, the driver asked him: "Where can I take you, Mr. Doyle?" Doyle was flabbergasted. He asked the driver whether he knew him by sight.

    The driver said: "No Sir, I have never seen you before."

    The puzzled Doyle asked him what made him think that he was Conan Doyle.

    The driver replied: "This morning's paper had a story about you being on vacation in Marseilles. This is the taxi-stand where people who return from Marseilles always come to. Your skin colour tells me you have been on vacation. The ink-spot on your right more...

    Arthur Conan Doyle, author of the Sherlock Holmes stories, was convinced that the dead could communicate with the living. Once, shortly after the death of a fellow writer, he was asked if he had heard from the deceased. He admitted that he had not.
    'Are you convinced now,' continued his questioner,' that spiritualism is a fake?'
    'Not at all,' replied Doyle,' I hadn't expected him to contact me. We weren't on speaking terms when he died.'

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