Memory isn't what is was
Two eighty-year-olds were watching TV.
'Pat, me darling,' said Mary. 'Would you ever do me a favour? Would you go
into the kitchen and get me some ice cream out of the freezer?'
'I will,'said Pat.
'Well, shall I write it down for you?' asked Mary. 'Because your memory's
not what it was.'
'Don't be stupid, woman. I can remember a simple thing like a plate of ice
cream,' snorted Pat.
'Yes, but I was thinking of having a little chocolate sauce poured on it,
so I'd better write it down.'
'Good God in heaven,' bawled Pat. 'I'm not stupid you know. I can remember
ice cream with chocolate sauce.'
'Yes, but do you know those hundreds and thousands decorations. I was thinking
of a sprinkling of them on top. I'd better draw a picture,' said Mary.
'You'll do no such thing,' said Pat. 'I can remember ice cream, chocolate
sauce and hundreds and thousands. Just hang on a minute.'
Hang on Mary did, one minute, ten, twenty, forty. Eventually Pat returned
carrying a tray. On the tray was a plate. On the plate was egg, bacon and sausage.
'See, I told you. I should have written everything down,'said Mary.
'Why's that?' asked Pat.
'You've forgotten the toast,' she snapped.