An English lord lived in a magnificent estate in the countryside, but on the weekends he often visited his club in London. First he ate there, then he drank too much, and finally he slept there overnight.

After such an evening of heavy drinking at the club, he called home from London the next morning with a huge hangover. The butler picked up the telephone.

"Hello James, milord here, go tell milady that I am still at the club and that I'll be home in about half an hour. I'll hold on."

A few moments later James returned to the telephone and said, "I just walked into milady's room, and I caught her in bed with the gardener."

"Damn, James," the lord said. "Go to the wine cellar, get my shotgun, and blow them to smithereens. I'll hold on."

Some time later the lord heard two dull bangs and James returned to the telephone.

"I've killed them both, milord. What shall I do with the bodies?"

"Just chuck them in the swimming pool."

"But milord," James said, "we don't have a swimming pool."

The lord said, "Oh sorry, wrong number."