Driving two couples back to the farm after an evening of culture,  one gentleman  expressed his need for a rest room. I could not think of anything available as we drove through the countryside.  I suggested to go behind an old farmhouse by the side of the road, which he agreed to do. Shortly afterwards, what sounded like a woman’s scream came from the direction of the abandoned building. Out of the darkness of the night came our friend, zipping up his fly as he  approached the car.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Those damn Italians make love anywhere!” he exclaimed.

Apparently as he tried to relieve himself,  he had disturbed a moment of ecstasy that a young couple was enjoying, under the moonlight, behind the abandoned farmhouse.

“Better the couple then a hungry wild boar that could have eliminated a private  body part,” said his wife drily.