They don't just burn witches anymore. They have to try them first. By "try them" I don't mean like you would try a hat or a pair of trousers, although that might have been fairer. The try you by making you do a series of silly tests.
First I had to do one of those buzzy things. You know what I mean: the buzzy thing. You move a hoop over a bit of wobbly wire and if it touches it goes buzz. Well I did it perfectly, because I have the hands of a surgeon, but apparently this means that I am a witch.
The second test is that I had to do a Rubik's cube in under two minutes. This is proper easy for a brainbox like me, but I decided to play it smart. After all, these were simple country folk and they were bound to think that some kind of magic was involved if I achieved this task, so I deliberately failed. Apparently, my failure means that I am a witch.
The third test is maths. I have recently mastered quadratic equations, but I don't think that will help me here. This was the problem I was set: Malcolm is on a train travelling from Chichester to Frome at an average speed of sixty miles an hour. Meanwhile, Mary is waiting at a bus stop in Wolverhampton and her cousin Brenda has gone on a city break to Copenhagen. In light of this information, what did Nathanial Kerchunk have for breakfast?
Now, this was a tricky one, so I sat down with a pencil and paper and tried to work it out. It made my head throb but after fifteen minutes I finally came up with the answer: twenty-eight miles per hour! Apparently, this conclusively proves that I am a witch.