A retired couple had two friends over for dinner. After eating, the ladies retired to the parlour while the gents cleaned up in the kitchen. (It wasn't like that when the joke was told to me, but fair's fair.)
'The wife and I went to the most marvellous pub last week,' the hosting gent said to his friend. 'Great food, wonderful atmosphere, excellent service. And,' he added, in a lame attempt to keep the joke relevant, 'they had an enormous range of malts available.'
'What was the name of it?' asked the guest.
'Oh, geez,' said the host, 'my memory is getting so bad. Something-and-Crown...something-and-Crown.... What do you call that flower with all the thorns on it?'
'Rose?' said the guest.
'Yes, that's it,' said the host, and called into the parlour, 'Hey Rose! What was the name of that pub we were in last week?'
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