A young student from rural Yorkshire goes off to university in Bristol, but halfway through the term he has squandered all of his money.
He calls home.
'Dad,' he says, 'you won't believe what modern education is developing. They actually have a program here in Bristol that will teach our dog Fido how to talk.'
'That's amazing!' his Dad says. 'How do I get Fido in that program?'
'Just send him down here with £2,000,' the young blagger says, 'I'll get him in the course.'
So ... his father sends the dog and £2,000.
About two-thirds through the term, the money again runs out.
The boy calls home.
'So how's Fido doing, son?' his father wants to know.
'Awesome! Dad, he's talking up a storm. But you just won't believe this. They've had such good results with talking, they've begun to teach the animals how to read.'
'Read?' exclaims his father. 'No kidding! How do we get Fido in that program?'
'Just send £4,500. I'll get him in the class.'
The money promptly arrives. But our hero has a problem. At the end of the year, his father will find out the dog can neither talk nor read.
So he shoots the dog.
When he arrives home at the end of the year, his father is all excited.
'Where's Fido? I just can't wait to talk with him, and see him read something!'
'Dad,' the boy says, 'I have some grim news. Yesterday morning, just before we left to drive home, Fido was in the living room, sitting back in the recliner, reading the Evening Post. Then he suddenly turned to me and asked, 'So, is your daddy still messing around with that little redhead barmaid at the pub?''
The father groans and whispers, 'I hope you shot him before he talks to your Mother!'
'I sure did, Dad!'
'That's my boy!'