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 neighbourhood.
>
> 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 gift cheque for £50.
>
> At the second house they presented him fine Cuban cigars in an 18-carat
> gold box.
>
> The folks at the third house handed him a case of 30-year old Scotch
> whisky.
>
> At the fourth house he was met at the door by a 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 l loving he had ever
> experienced.
>
> When he had had enough they went downstairs, where the dumb blonde fixed
> him a giant breakfast: eggs, tomatoes, ham, sausage, blueberry waffles,
> and
> freshly-squeezed orange juice. When he was truly satisfied she poured
> him a
> cup of steaming coffee.
>
> As she was pouring, he noticed a note sticking out from under the cup's
> bottom edge.
>
> "All this was just too wonderful for words," he said, "but what's the
> five
> pound note for?"
>
> "Well," said the dumb 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 to give you.
>
> "He said, "F*ck him. Give him a fiver."
>
> She smiled prettily. "The breakfast was my idea."