A leading banker had an urgent need to speak to his wife. He rang home and the maid answered. “Get me my wife — it’s important!”

“I’m sorry sir, she can’t come to the phone.” “Get her; I must speak to her.” “I’m sorry, she’s unavailable.”

“It’s urgent. Why can’t she come to the phone?”

“She’s upstairs, sir, in bed with … well, I assumed it was you, sir.”

“That does it.” The banker exploded, “Go to my study, in the top right-hand drawer of my desk is a loaded gun. Shoot them both dead!”

“I can’t do that sir!” “If you change your mind, there’s a $300,000 penthouse for you at Surfers’ Paradise and a $100,000 cash bonus.”


“Will you hold on sir?”

Three minutes’ silence, then two shots.

“Are you there sir?”

“Are they both dead?”

“Well, you’re wife is definitely dead, sir, and I think that the gentleman would have expired by now. He was bleeding profusely as he stumbled downstairs, crashed through the French-windows, staggered out onto the patio and fell face-down in the swimming pool.”


Imagine That

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