The following story is a new one for me (taken from today's Rapport).
The guy, drunk as a sailor, takes a shortcut on his way home after the good night out through the graveyard and falls into an open grave. Later on in the night it starts to rain and he shivvers heavily from the cold. He begins to shout for help.
"Help, me thomeone, help me, itth damn cold down here." Another friend in crime, also happy as a sailor, walks by and hears the cries. He peers down the grave and starts to fill it in with sand, while he says with compassion:
"O.K. Don't worry. It'sh allright. No wonder you'r sho cold. You kicked yourshhelf open."
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