One fine, sunny morning, a priest took a walk in the local forest.
He was walking by a small stream when, sitting on a nearby toadstool, he noticed a sad, sad-looking frog.
"What's wrong with you?" said the priest.
"Well," said the frog, "the reason I am so sad on this fine day is because I wasn't always a frog."
"Really!" said the priest, "Can you explain?"
"Once upon a time I was an 11-year-old Choirboy at your very church. I too was walking by this stream when I was confronted by the wicked witch of the forest.
'Let me pass!' I cried, but to no avail.
She called me a cheeky little boy and with a flash of her wand, turned me into the frog you now see before you."
"That's an incredible story!" said the priest, "Is there no way of reversing the witch's spell?"
"Yes," said the frog, "It is said that if a nice kind person would pick me up, take me home, give me food and warmth and a good night's sleep, I will wake up as a boy again."
"Today's your lucky day!" said the priest, and forthwith picked up the frog and took him home.
He gave him lots of food, placed him by the fire, and at bedtime put the frog on the pillow beside him.
Miracle of miracles! For, when he awoke the next morn, there was the 11-year-old Choirboy beside him in bed.
And that, your Honour, is the case for the Defence.