My wife phoned me, panting and breathless.
“Where are you?” she moaned.
“I’m at the pub,” I replied.
She said, “I think the baby’s coming!”
I said, “Well, he won’t get in. He’s underage.”
My wife phoned me, panting and breathless.
“Where are you?” she moaned.
“I’m at the pub,” I replied.
She said, “I think the baby’s coming!”
I said, “Well, he won’t get in. He’s underage.”
