I had another birthday recently, which is always better than the alternative, but as it coincides with the start of semester I tend to get a bit sensitive about how much older I am than the majority of my fellow students.
Yesterday it was a friend’s birthday and – welcome to Medicine -the talk turned to constipation.
This made me think of one of my favourite M-rated jokes, which goes like this:
Q: Did you hear about the constipated butcher?
A: He worked it out with a pencil.
My friend looked at me completely blankly. It was then that I realised my joke had inadvertently highlighted a fairly obvious generation gap. ‘Young folk these days’ get their meat at the supermarket, and if they do go to a butcher, chances are the maths is done by the register or a calculator. Plastic bags have replaced butcher’s paper. Sigh.
This is unfortunate on multiple levels, one of which is the consequent loss of my follow-up joke, which may or may not have been invented by me or a close member of my family (I really don’t know, I don’t remember).
Q. Yeah well, did you hear about the constipated mathematician?
A. He worked it out with logs.
My father is a mathematician and my father-in-law is a butcher.
Vale, ultimate-double-dad-joke. I regret your passing. So to speak.