Little John was dying.

Tenderly, his wife Maggie knelt by his bedside and asked, "Anything I can get you, John?"

"No" He replied.

"You must have a last wish, John?" asked his wife.

Faintly, came the answer. . . "A bit of of that boiled ham over there would be nice"

"No you can't have that" said Maggie, "You know it's for the your funeral".