An ode to old age
There's quite an art to falling apart as the years go by,
And life doesn't begin at 40. That's a big fat lie.
My hair's getting thinner, my body is not;
The few teeth I have are beginning to rot.

I smell of Vick's-Vapo-Rub, not Chanel # 5;
My new pacemaker's all that keeps me alive.
When asked of my past, every detail I'll know,
But what was I doing 10 minutes ago?

Well, you get the idea, what more can I say?
I'm off to read the obituary, like I do every day;
If my names not there, I'll once again start -
Perfecting the art of falling apart

Bad News and Good News
Jill phoned her husband, John, at work for a chat. "I'm sorry dear," said John, "but I'm up to my neck in work today. I don't have time to chat."

Jill replied, "But I've got some good news and some bad news for you, dear."

"OK darling," said John, "but as I've got no time right now, just give me the good news."

"Okay," agreed Jill. "Well, the air bag works...bye!"