All goes well until the final gate which is topped by sharp glass and shinning over this he badly rips his backside.
By the time he gets home, he’s in agony so quietly, without waking the wife, he heads for the bathroom to inspect the damage, clean up the wounds and do a bit of safety first.
The next morning he crawls out of bed with a king-sized hangover and an acute pain.
“What did you get up to last night?” accused his wife. “You were horribly drunk.”
“No I wasn’t,” he replied. “What makes you think that?”
“I’ll tell you why. I found all our plasters on the bathroom mirror this morning,” she retorted