There was an attorney who got home late one evening after a very taxing day trying to get a stay of execution for a client, named Wilbur Wright, who was due to be hanged for murder at midnight. His last minute plea for clemency to the state governor had failed and he was feeling tired and depressed.
As soon as he got through the door his wife started on about, “What time of night do you call this? Where the hell have you been?” and so on. Too shattered to play his usual role in this familiar ritual, he went and poured himself a very large whisky and headed off to the bathroom for a long hot soak — pursued by the predictable sarcastic remarks.
While he was in the bath the phone rang, which the wife answered to be told that her husband’s client had been granted his stay of execution after all.
Realizing what a day he must have had, she relented a little and went upstairs to give him the good news. As she opened the bathroom door she was greeted by the sight of her husband’s rear view as he bent naked over the bath cleaning the tub.
“They’re not hanging Wright tonight,” she said, at which the attorney whirled round and screamed hysterically, “For crying out loud woman, don’t you ever stop?”