One day a 12-year-old boy walks into a brothel, dragging a dead frog behind him and says, ‘Hello, I’d like a girl for the night.’ The madam says, ‘I’m afraid you’re too young for one of my girls.’ So he gets out his wallet and gives her ?200, to which she says, ‘She’ll be waiting for you upstairs.’ The boy says, ‘She’s got to have active herpes.’ ‘But all my girls are clean!’ So out comes another ?200. The madam says, ‘Okay.’ So the boy goes upstairs, dragging the dead frog.

Half an hour later, he comes back down, still dragging the dead frog. By now the madam is curious, and asks, ‘Why did you come in here dragging a dead frog and asking for a girl with active herpes?’ ‘Well,’ he says, ‘when I get home, I’ll fuck the baby-sitter, and she’ll get it. Then, when my parents get home, Dad will drive her home and have sex on the way, so he’ll get it. Later, Mum and Dad will make love, and she’ll get it. Then, when Dad has gone to work, the milkman will come round and fuck my mum, and he’ll get it.

And he’s the bastard who killed my frog!’