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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.


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