Well, Murphy was staggering home trying to plan his entry, his excuse and his drunk condition.

Quietly, ever so gently, he eased open the front door and tiptoed into the hall. He was just in the process of removing his shoes when it happened. The cuckoo clock came to life and out popped the pesky creature cuckooing three times for three o'clock.

'What to do?' thought Murphy. Then all of a sudden - inspiration. 'I'll cuckoo another nine times and if she's awake she'll think it's only midnight!'

So that's what our hero did. It worked. No reaction from the missus. All was calm as he slipped quietly into bed.

But next morning brought a different picture. As Murphy's head thumped its way back into the world from the oblivion of the night, the bedroom door swung ominously open. There stood the good lady hands on hips - steely-eyed.

'And what time did you get in last night, dear?' she asked.

'Quite late, about midnight I think, love,' said Murphy.

'Well, when you get up I want you to have a look at that clock in the hall. Only last night, at midnight, the strangest thing happened. The clock cuckooed three times, then it coughed, belched, kicked the cat up the backside, and then cuckooed nine more times!'