Marooned on a South Seas island, a man with a beard down to his knees is walking on the beach.

Suddenly a beautiful woman emerges from the surf.

“Been here long?” she asks.

“Since 1981,” he replies.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a cigarette?”

“Eleven years.”

She unzips a pocket in the sleeve of her wet suit, pulls out a pack of Camels, lights one, and hands it to him. He inhales greedily.

“How long since you’ve had a drink of whiskey?”

“Eleven years.”

She unzips the other sleeve and offers him a flask. He takes a long pull and looks at her adoringly.

“How long,” she asks coyly, “since you played around?”

“Eleven years,” he says wistfully.

She starts to unzip the front of her wet suit.

“Gosh,” he says, “you got a set of golf clubs in there?”