The other night I was invited out for a night with "the boys." I told my wife that I would be home by midnight ... promise!

Well, the hours passed and the beer was going down way too easy.

At around 3 A.M., drunk as a skunk, I headed for home. Just as I got in the door, the cuckoo clock in the hall started up, and cuckooed 3 times.

Quickly, I realised she'd probably wake up, so I cuckooed another 9 times.

I was really proud of myself, having a quick, witty solution, even when smashed, to escape a possible conflict.

The next morning my wife asked me what time I got in, and I told her 12 o'clock.

She didn't seem disturbed at all.

Whew! Got away with that one!

Then she told me that we needed a new cuckoo clock.

When I asked her why she said "Well, it cuckooed 3 times, then said 'oh f***, cuckooed 4 more times, cleared it's throat, cuckooed another 3 times, giggled, cuckooed twice more, and then farted.

That is so old and yet im still giggling my head off. Brilliant