Called in a pub a couple of weeks ago with three mates and I ordered four pints of bitter. The pretty little bimbo who served me promptly said "Eight fifty!" whilst she was still pulling the beer.
I said, "Can't be. You must be mistaken!"
"Huh! What makes you say that?" she asked.
"We did away with half pence coins a long time ago. Now will you please use the till as you do not seem capable of doing mental arithmatic."
"Who are you calling 'mental'? Oh! Sorry, it's eight forty."
I always remember doing the 'times tables' parrot fashion until we were blue in the face but, it has now become a badge of old age to be capable of doing mental arithmatic. Sad isn't it?
dave