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They had been having a few beers at the bar together recounting old times when the call of nature caused them to line up at the same time, still deep in conversation.
But Fred could hardly ignore the fact that Chas was very well endowed.
"I say, that's a remarkable donger you have there old boy," Fred was prompted to remark.
"Wasn't always that way," replied Chas, "Medical science can do wonders with transplants these days," he said. "I got this done over in Harley Street, England, cost a thousand bucks, but as you can see, well worth every cent."
Fred was very envious. In fact, he packed his bag that night and flew off to the Old Dart first thing.
It was a good six months later before he ran into his old cobber once again and Fred could hardly wait to tell him that he had taken his advice and was well pleased with the result.
"But Chas, I will tell you something else," said Fred. "You were diddled, I got mine for $500, not a thousand."
Chas could hardly believe it. Same address on Harley Street, same doctor. Complaining that he had been ripped off, he asked Fred if he could take a look.
Once more they lined up at the porcelain, when Chas took a peek over the partition, the worried frown which had creased his face disappeared. "No wonder," he laughed. "That's my old one!"