It had promised to be a sensational divorce case, with the wife accused of incredible escapades. Testifying before her own attorney, she projected an image of sweet innocence, told a tale of wifely fidelity and sacrifice, and was quite believable.
When it was time for cross-examination though, the husband’s lawyer arose and said, “Isn’t it true that on the night of June 12, in a driving rainstorm, you had sexual intercourse with a certain circus midget on the handle bars of a careening motorcycle as it raced across a private golf course reaching speeds in excess of seventy-five miles per hour?”
She turned pale but retained her remarkable self-control and composure.
Her voice was almost serene in its innocence as she asked, “What was that date again ?”
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