Frank

A chap walks out to the street and hails a passing cab. He gets in and the Cabbie says, 'Perfect timing. You're just like Frank.'

Passenger: 'Who?'

'Frank Feldman. He did everything right all the time. Like my coming along when you needed a taxi, things happened like that to Frank Feldman every single time.'

'There are always a few clouds over everybody.'

'Not Frank Feldman. He was a terrific sportsman; he could have won Wimbledon or The Open golf. He sang like an opera tenor, danced like Bruce Forsyth and played the piano like Georgie Fame. He was an amazing chap.'

'Sounds like he was somebody rather special.'

'There's more... He had a memory like a computer. He remembered everybody's birthday. He knew all about wine, which foods to order and which fork to eat them with. He could mend anything. Not like me. I change a fuse, and the whole street blacks out. But Frank Feldman, he could do everything right.'

'Wow, some Renaissance Man then.'

'Frank never made a mistake, and knew how to treat a lady to make her feel good. He would never answer her back, even if she was in the wrong; and his clothing was always immaculate, shoes highly polished too - He was the perfect man! He never made a mistake. No one could ever measure up to Frank Feldman.'

'An amazing fellow. How did you meet him?'

'Well, I never actually met Frank - he died. I married his widow.'