A crown court judge was out on the town one Friday evening, partaking of some of Londons finest drinking establishments. Returning home to his good lady wife in the wee small hours, he realised he was going to be for the high jump when she saw the state he was in. His Saville Row suit had vomit all the way down it.

Charles she bellowed.

What on EARTH have you been doing?

Thinking on his feet, he replied Oh…… a dreadful ruffian discharged his ample evenings excesses all over me as I was about to head home. As fortune would have it, he was arrested shortly after, and I will be hearing his case on Monday morning.

Monday morning came, with the judge conducting his business free of controversy. He still had this nagging feeling however, that hed need to have his story straight for his wife when returning home. She was an inquisitive woman, with an eye for detail. Then, out of the blue, she rang him in his chambers.

Charles, what happened to that oik who sullied your jacket on Friday night?

she asked.

Well he replied.

He hasnt appeared before me yet. The case was adjourned until this afternoon, but Ill give him three months in prison for sure.

Frankly Charles, I think youd better give him six months — hes shit in your trousers as well!