Growing old gracefully

"Go away! Go away!", he shouts, waving a wiry arm in the air, "Go away!"

Who is he shouting at? Answer: The nurse who is looking after him.

"I don't like her! She's mean to me!"

Why is she mean?

"She won't let me pee where I want! She won't let me pee in the bucket. She won't let me pee on the table. She won't let me pee in the corridor. She won't let me pee on the bed. She won't let me pee on that bed, either. She won't let me pee on the wall..." He is shaking his head in despair, as he carries on listing all the places where the Evil (long-suffering) Nurse has forbidden him to relieve himself.

He walks on, grumbling to himself about the lack of places in which he might urinate, and turns around, just as the Evil (long-suffering) Nurse takes a sip of her cup of tea (well-deserved, I might add, seeing as she has already changed the sheets of one bed about twenty times in two hours.)

"I pee-d in that!", he exclaims, pointing triumphantly at the teacup.

Evil (long-suffering) Nurse pauses, her face turning a delicate shade of green. She looks around at the other nurses who are stifling their laughter, as the old man carries on, "Yes, I pee-d in it so much that I couldn't pee anymore, and then I pee-d all over the table and then I wiped it up with a cloth and squeezed in into the cup."

Evil (long-suffering) Nurse has been put off that particular cup of tea (although it is pretty obvious that it hasn't been anywhere near anybody's pee) and pops off to make herself a fresh one.

Meanwhile, the old rogue has nipped round the corner and is happily emptying his bladder into a plant pot.

You can get away with so much when you're old.