“Daughter asks her Mum: Mum, how many kinds of penises are there? Mother smiles and answers: Well dear, a man goes through three phases. In his twenties, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his thirties and forties, it is a birch, flexible but reliable. After fifties, it is like a christmas tree. Daughter asks: Christmas Tree? Mother answers: Yes, dead from the root up and the balls are for decorations only.”