At dawn the telephone rings, 'Hello, Senor Rod? This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your country house.'

'Ah yes, Ernesto. What can I do for you? Is there a problem?'

'Uh, I am just calling to inform you, Senor Rod, that your parrot is dead'

'My parrot? Dead? The one that won the International competition?'

'Si, Senor, that's the one.'

'Damn! That's a pity! I spent a small fortune on that bird. What did he die from?'

'From eating rotten meat, Senor Rod.'

'Rotten meat? Who the hell fed him rotten meat?'

'Nobody, Senor. He ate the meat of the dead horse all by himself .'

'Dead horse? What dead horse?'

'The thoroughbred, Senor Rod.'

'My prize thoroughbred is dead?'

'Si Senor Rod, he died from all that work pulling the watercart.'

'Are you insane?? What watercart?'

'The one we used to put out the fire, Senor.'

'Good Lord!! What fire are you talking about, man??'

'The one at your house, Senor! A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire.'

'What the hell?? Are you saying that my mansion is destroyed because of a candle?? !!'

'Si, Senor Rod.'

'But there's electricity at the house! What was the candle for?'

'For the funeral, Senor Rod.'

'WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL??!!'

'Your wife's, Senor Rod', she showed up very late one night and I thought she was a thief, so I hit her with your new TaylorMade R580 XD  golf club.'

SILENCE . . .. . .. . .. . .. LONG SILENCE . . . .. . . . ..

'Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep shit!

Aaaahhhh - the Gordon Brown approach to communication.