At dawn, the telephone rings

"Hello, Mr Williams? This is David, the caretaker at your country house."

"Ah yes, young Arscott. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?"

"Uh...I'm just calling to advise you, Sir that your parrot died."

"My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International speaking
competition?"

"Yes Sir.....that's the one."

"Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he
die from?"

"From eating rotten meat, Sir."

"Rotten meat? Who the hell fed the parrot rotten meat?"

"Nobody, Sir, he ate the meat of your dead horse!"
"Dead horse? What dead horse?!"

"The thoroughbred that won the Breeders Cup, Mr Williams. He died from a
heart attack pulling the big water cart."

"Are you insane? What water cart?"

"The one we used to put out the fire, Sir!"

"Good Lord! What fire are you talking about, Arscott?"

"The one at your house, Sir! A candle fell and the curtains caught on
fire."

"What the...!! There's electricity at the house!! What the hell was the
candle for?"

"For the funeral, Sir."

"WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL?!"

"Your wife's, Sir...She showed up one night out of the blue and I thought

she was a thief.. So I hit her
with your new Tiger Woods Nike driver."

A long pause of complete silence...

"Arscott - if you broke that driver, you're in deep ****!