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A few years ago I came across this classic joke. Normally I don't really do jokes. They're usually best reserved for pubs or dinner parties when everyone's too drunk to make proper conversation. However this one makes good use of misunderstanding.

Two gentlemen on a shooting expedition are traversing the Yorkshire moors with twelve bores tucked under their arms. They're miles from anywhere. One collapses to the ground, turns a nasty shade of grey, convulses a few times and lies absolutely still, not breathing. His companion pulls out his mobile and calls emergency services.

999: Which service do you require?

Sportsman: Ambulance. You might need a helicopter. My friend's had a funny turn.

999: Can you give us more information please?

Sportsman: I think he's dead.

999: Why do you think he's dead?

Sportsman: He's gone a funny colour and he's not breathing and he's not moving. I can't feel a pulse. Probably his heart.

999: I'm afraid he might be dead. But it's vital we know if he's dead or alive so we can respond appropriately. Please can you check him out again and make sure he's absolutely dead.

Longish silence followed by two loud bangs in quick succession.

Sportsman: Yes. I've made sure. He's absolutely dead.