Working Girls and Angry Anuses

I'm still not up and running re posting pretty pictures.
So I will tell two short tales about old men instead.
(These stories are much improved when told in person, as I do the voices and hand gestures and everything).

Tale 01.
As part of my farewell, my dear friend Robyn took me to lunch at a lovely Greek eatery down by the river - her delighful little 10 month old girl, Gracie, came with us.
As we ate our lunch, everyone cooed over the baby (who is very delightful), in particular an elderly man, who kept popping back to say a few kindly words.
As he finished his lunch and got up to leave he came over one last time and said, with a beaming smile and without a hint of saddness, "You've got to hold on to them. My daughter's a prostitute in the Blue Mountains".
There is a long list of things I'd have loved to have said, but Robyn would have taken my eye out with a fork.

Tale 02.
Several years ago, I went with a friend to buy my first car.
It was a rock solid red Cortina and I bought it from an old man whose wife had been driving it to town once a week to go to church (and had recently died).
We knocked on the door and although we could hear that someone was in, but it took him a long time to come to the door.
When he finally opened it he hitched up his pants and said "Sorry I took so long, but the nurse was dressing a boil on my anus".
Nice!