Me Dad took me to sit in the beer garden at the local pub last night for a very convivial hour or two. A few of his mates were there and he couldn't resist the opportunity to take centre stage and rattle off some of those awful historic "jokes" of his. He started off with the what do you do if you see an epileptic having a fit in the bath, throw your washing in "joke" which even I know is as old as Lenny Henry's act. This surprisingly met with raucous laughter all round as if they'd never even heard it before. Unfortunately one bloke sat nearby wasn't laughing. "Excuse me, that's in very bad taste. My brother was an epileptic and he died whist having a bath," he said stern-faced. "Oh, er, I'm terribly sorry to hear that mate, did he drown?" enquired me Dad stumbling desperately to find some degree of humility. "No, he choked on one of my socks," was the reply. Pooh count: just the two, a baby's arm and a fun-sized Mars bar.
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