Winter Meat

It was winter. A rumour went round town that there had been a meat delivery. A huge queue formed outside the butcher's shop.

One hour went by, two, three . . . Finally, at eleven o'clock, the shop door was opened, and the manager announced: 'Friends, we have meat, but not enough for everybody. Would all the Jews please leave.'

The Jews left. The queue was significantly reduced.

At one o'clock the door opened again: 'Friends, we have meat, but not enough for everybody. Would all non-party members please leave.' Again the queue was significantly reduced.

At three o'clock the door opened again: 'Friends, we have meat, but not enough for everybody. Would all those who didn't take part in the Great War of the Fatherland please leave.'

At five o'clock the door opened again: 'Friends, we have meat, but not enough for everybody. Would all those who didn't take part in the overthrow of Tsarism please leave.'

There were only three half frozen old men left.

At eight o'clock the door opened once more: 'Friends, there won't be any meat.'

The old men moved off home grumbling: 'The Jews always get the best of everything!'

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