Postie Pat

It was Postman Pat's last day on the job after 35 years of carrying the mail through all kinds of weather to the same villages and towns.

When he arrived at the first house on his route, he was greeted by the whole
family there, who all hugged and congratulated him and sent him on his way with a cheque for £50.

At the second house they presented him an 18-carat gold watch.

The folks at the third house handed him a bottle of 15-year old Scotch whisky.

At the fourth house he was met at the door by a gorgeous but dumb blonde in her lingerie. She took him by the arm and led him up the stairs to the bedroom where she blew his mind with the most passionate lovemaking he had ever experienced. When they went downstairs afterwards the blonde fixed him a full English breakfast: bacon, eggs, sausage, tomato and fried bread together with freshly squeezed orange juice. As she was pouring him a cup of steaming coffee, he noticed a pound coin in the saucer.

'All this was just too wonderful for words,' he said, 'but what's this quid for?'

'Well,' said the blonde, 'Last night, I told my husband that today would be your last day and that we should do something special for you'. 'I asked him what I should give you' and he said, 'F**k him. Give him a quid.'

She smiled shyly and added, 'the breakfast was my idea.'

Ever since then, generations of children have grown up believing postmen are cat-loving soppies who wear geeky specs and have only three fingers on each hand.