Malcolm Turnbull and his driver were driving along a country road one night when all of a sudden they hit a pig, killing it instantly.
Mal, avoiding responsibility as is his habit, told his driver to go up to the farmhouse and explain to the owners what had happened.
About an hour later the driver staggers back to the car with a bottle of wine in one hand, a cigar in the other and his clothes all ripped and torn.
“What happened to you?” asked Mal, looking up from his Ipad where he had been busy making plans with his Cayman Island agent.
“Well, the farmer gave me the wine, his wife gave me the cigar and his 19-year-old daughter made mad passionate love to me.”
“My God, what did you tell them?” asked Turnbull.