One evening, a young lad returned home the worse for drink. After having some trouble getting in through the front door, he staggered into the living room and flopped in an armchair watching the room spinning.
His mother, looking on, wasn’t amused. “You little oik,” she shouted “you’re a disgrace!”. “Wait ’til your father gets home. He’ll teach you to come home drunk!”
A while later, they heard footsteps on the front path followed by the sound of someone fumbling for keys then having trouble finding the one for the front door. Finally, the newcomer got into the hall, staggered along it colliding with the walls and on reaching the kitchen sink was violently sick.
Presently, the man appeared at the living room door, stared blankly at his wife and son, still seated in the living room, then staggered around the room, colliding with the furniture, before collapsing on the floor and passing out.
The woman smiled proudly at the young lad and said “There son, THAT’S how it’s done.”