Jim strolls into the paint section of a Homebase and walks up to the assistant. “I’d like a pint of canary-coloured paint,” he says.

“Certainly,” says the clerk. “Mind if I ask why you need it?”

“My parakeet,” says Jim. “See, I want to enter him in a canary contest.

He sings so sweetly that I know he’s sure to win.”

“Well, you can’t do that!” the assistant says. “The chemicals in the paint will almost certainly kill the poor thing!”

“No, they won’t,” Jim replies. “Listen, Buddy, I’ll bet you ten quid your parakeet dies if you try to paint him.”

“You’re on!” says Jim. Two days later Jim comes back looking very sheepish and puts ten pounds on the counter in front of the clerk.

“So the paint killed your bird?” “Not really,” Jim says. “He seemed to handle the paint okay, but he didn’t survive the sanding between coats.”