Jean, Ethel and Florence, as usual on Saturday nights, were counting their winnings: it was the 743rd successive Saturday that they’d won the National Lottery and their combined wealth outstripped nine entire countries.
The Fraud Squad suspected, of course, but the witches’ constant switching of magic potions and spells had them bamboozled. But Ethel was worried that they were being dangerously greedy.
“Don’t be silly,” chimed the others.
Suddenly, seventeen armed policemen burst through their front door into their living room.
“OK, you two,” Ethel sighed, “I get your point.” She waved her hand, turning the policemen into slimy toads.