Mulla Nasrudin

All in my wife’s name

   Nasrudin was eating a huge roast chicken one day when a poor man
passed by and said, peering through the window:
   ‘Please give me some of that bird, for I am starving.’
   ‘Willingly,’ said Nasrudin, ‘for my part I would give you all of it.
But, unfortunately, it belongs to my wife.’