A Crown Court judge spent a Friday evening sampling London's finest pubs. Returning home in the early hours, he realized he was in trouble: his Savile Row suit was stained with vomit.
"Charles!" his wife exclaimed. "What on earth have you been doing?"
Thinking quickly, he replied, "A dreadful ruffian was sick all over me as I was heading home. Fortunately, he was arrested shortly after, and I'll be hearing his case on Monday morning."
Monday arrived, and the judge conducted his business without issue. However, he still felt uneasy about explaining the incident to his detail-oriented wife. Suddenly, she called him in his chambers.
"Charles, what happened to that oik who ruined your jacket on Friday?" she asked.
"Well," he replied, "he hasn't appeared before me yet. The case was adjourned until this afternoon, but I'll certainly give him three months in prison."
"Frankly, Charles," she said, "I think you'd better give him six months—he's soiled your trousers as well!"