Joke

SIR Keir Starmer walks into a bank and says: ‘Good morning, could you please cash this cheque for me?’ ‘It would be my pleasure, sir,’ the cashier replies. ‘Could you please show me your ID?’ ‘Oh, I didn’t bring my ID with me as I didn’t think there was any need to,’ says Starmer. ‘After all, I’m the leader of the Labour Party. ‘Yes, sir, I know who you are, but with all the regulations and monitoring of the banks because of impostors, forgers and requirements of the legislation, I must insist on seeing ID.’ ‘Just ask anyone at the bank who I am and they’ll tell you.

Everybody knows who I am.’ ‘I’m sorry, Sir Keir, but these are the bank rules and I must follow them.’ Getting a bit agitated, Starmer says: ‘C’mon, I’m urging you, please cash this cheque.’ The cashier relents slightly. ‘Look, Sir Keir, here is an example of what we can do. One day, Tiger Woods came into the bank without ID. To prove he was Tiger Woods, he pulled out his putter and made a beautiful shot across the bank into a cup. With that shot we knew him to be Tiger Woods and cashed his cheque. ‘Another time, Andre Agassi came in without ID. He pulled out his tennis racquet and made a fabulous shot where the tennis ball landed in my cup. With that shot we cashed his cheque. So, Mr Starmer, what can you do to prove that it is you and only you?’ Keir Starmer stands there thinking and thinking until he finally says: ‘Honestly, my mind is a total blank. There’s nothing that comes to my mind. I can’t think of a single thing. I have absolutely no idea what to do and I simply don’t have a clue.’ With a big smile, the cashier says: ‘Will that be large or small notes, Sir Keir?’

Ken Brady, Swanmore, Hants.

HAVE you lost a relative or friend in recent months whose life you’d like to celebrate? Our Friday column tells the stories of ordinary people who lived extraordinary lives. Email your 500-word tribute and a favourite photo to: lives@dailymail.co.uk or write to: Extraordinary Lives, Scottish Daily Mail, 20 Waterloo Street, Glasgow G2 6DB. Please include a contact phone number.

One Sunday in October, the pub was closed to the public and the production team sprayed the pavement with fake snow. Ann-Margret entered the pub singing Chestnuts Roasting On An Open Fire. Christmas really did come early that year! Pam provided food for everyone, and they all had such a good time that they returned a few days after filming was finished for the wrap party. Pam took it all in her stride. In her late 30s, she had a cancer scare, but after an operation she was soon back working in the pub every night. Pam was the linchpin of our extended family, organising gatherings and holding it all together. In the 1990s, she and Phil gave up the pub to run B&Bs in Eastbourne and, later, Stourport-on-Severn, Worcestershire. They had some eccentric guests, such as the elderly lady who would throw first her stick and then her handbag down the stairs before descending it herself. ‘Takes all sorts,’ Pam would laugh. She nursed Phil back to health after his own bout with cancer before she became ill again. Her poor body took a battering, but she never complained. After treatment, she and Phil spent a year abroad in their campervan. At last she could take it easy and enjoy herself, making a fuss of her ten grandchildren, whom she loved to bits. Sadly, the cancer returned and she passed away. I will always be so proud of my brave, big-hearted sister. n PaMELa aLICE ONSLOW

JaCOBS, born July 23, 1950; died May 23, 2021, aged 70.