I man walks into a pharmacy and asks the chemist for some paraquat to kill some weeds. The chemist says he can’t sell him any because it is a listed poison. So then the man asks him for some strychnine to kill some rats. The chemist explains that this too is a highly poisonous controlled substance and he cannot sell it.
The chemist looks hard at the man and says. “You don’t have a weed or rat problem do you, what is it you really want a poison for?”
The man breaks down in tears and says. “It’s for my wife, she’s got to go. I can’t stand it any longer.”
The chemist says. “Listen I can help you. You can’t use poison because it will be detected at an autopsy at the inquest of her death, even lethal doses of insulin can be found. You need a natural and organic method and I know what that is. You must f*ck her to death!”
“What, how do I do that?” Ask the man.
“You must give her a good long hard sh*gging at every opportunity, night or day, inside or out and whether it is hot, cold, sunny or dull. After six months of this she will dead.”
Some months later the chemist meets the man again whilst walking in the park. This time the man is in a motorised wheelchair. He is pale, much thinner and with a balding head, sunken eyes and drawn features he has aged at least ten years. He greets the man with a smile and asks how things are.
“Oh very well thank you, I took your advice and I have sh*gged her hard and long every single chance I could.”
The chemist asks him how this has affected his wife.
The man slowly raises a thin shaking arm and points a bony finger into the distance and says. “She's over there playing tennis.”
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