LONG-HITTING LONGEVITY
His doctor is astounded by the fine shape his elderly
patient is in:
'How do you stay in such great physical condition?'
'I'm Scottish and I'm a golfer,'
asserts the old guy. 'I'm up well before daylight
and playing the fairways every day. I have a wee dram
and all is well.'
'Well, indeed,' says the doctor. 'I'm sure that helps, but maybe
your good health in hereditary. How old was you father when
he died?'
'Who said he is deid?' enquires the old man indignantly.
The doctor is even more taken aback.
'You mean you're 80 years of age and your dad is still alive?'
'He's 100, in fact we played a few holes this morning, had a wee
dram, and then went for a walk on the topless-girls beach.'
'I'm truly amazed,' said the stunned physician.
'How about your dad's dad, how old was he when he died?'
'Who said my grandad's deid?'
'Are you saying he, too, is still alive?'
''He is 118 years old,' replies the old man.
The doctor is becoming frustrated and suggests sardonically:
'I suppose he went golfing with you this morning, as well?'
'No, Grandad couldnae play today because he is getting married.'
Now the poor doctor is himself losing the will to live.
'Getting married, why should an 118 year-old man want
to get married?'
'Who said he wanted to?'
Keith
Text courtesy of Ed, as usual.
I couldn't help rounding off this post
with some apposite lines by John Betjeman
who, himself, is buried near the tenth hole
at St Enedoc, Cornwall:
He loved each corner of the links,
The stream at the eleventh,
The grey-green bents, the pale sea-pinks,
The prospect at the seventh.
To the ninth tee the uphill climb,
A grass and sandy stairway,
And at the top the scent of thyme
And long extent of fairway.
Heaven, indeed.
I think we had that joke on here the other week, but it's still funny 
