I read the story in the newspaper.
It was still in the Soviet Union. In one colloquium fell into a deep drunkard. After a working day, he broke into the office of the director of the colchon and found a liter of alcohol there. Well, you won't drink alcohol without a snack - he found a three-litre bowl of cream in the refrigerator. So, while eating cream, he also drank alcohol.
The next day, the director of the collective farm calls the militia, a case for serious damage to the collective farm is filed against the slaughterhouse. It turned out that in the bank was not cream, but the sperm of the elite Dutch bull.