Two old British bluebloods were discussing tiger hunting in India in the old days of the British Raj.
"I say, Farnsworth, " says Smedley, " I recall I was on safari deep in the jungle when I came upon the largest Bengal Tiger I had ever seen."
"Zounds Smedley!" said Farnsworth, " Whatever did you do?"
"Well old chap" continued Smedley, " I raised my rifle, aimed right between that blighter's eyes and fired, but as luck would have it, my powder must have gotten wet in the monsoon, and the rifle misfired."
"Hard cheese, Smedley!, " said Farnsworth, " What happened then?"
"The tiger saw me and gave chase," Smedley embellished, "I took flight as fast as my feet would carry me, and just when it seemed he was upon me, he slipped, and I gained a bit of a lead. Then as he was catching up, he slipped again and I made a clean escape into the nearest Ghurka outpost."
" I say! " exclaimed Farnsworth, " Jolly good luck! I have to confide though, Smedley, had I been in your position, I dare say I would have shat my trousers!"
"Dear boy," concluded Smedley, "what do you think the tiger was slipping on?"