The old poacher comes staggering out of the woods with a large deer slung across his shoulders.

With great difficulty he crosses the ditch onto the pathway just as the gamekeeper steps out from behind a tree and confronts him.

“Gotcha!” says the gamekeeper. “At last! I’ve caught you in the very act!”

“Good evening Mr Jones,” says the poacher. “Lovely evening for a stroll.’

“Lovely….!??! Don’t give me any of your old chat, ya bloody thief! I’ve caught you!”

“Now, now, Mr Jones!” says the old poacher. “There’s no need for name-calling. I’m just passing the time of day with you. And what do you mean, you’ve caught me? Caught me doing what, exactly?”

“Poaching! You bloody old thief! Poaching deer!”

“Deer?” says the poacher. “What deer?”

“What the hell d’ya call that thing you’ve got slung over your shoulders?”

The poacher turns his head, jumps back, brushes the deer from his shoulders and says:

“EEEYEWWH!”