Hello,
I visited my sister Roberta a fortnight ago to help her gangly wastrel partner Darren, a man who once tried to steal my roof, plumb in their new washing machine.
What I know about plumbing you could scrawl on the Dalai Lama’s pubic hair, but how can I refuse little Sis?
All the bending and straining plus the three cabbage a day diet worked its magic, so I left Darren battling the cold feed, tucked Roberta’s Cosmo under me arm and paid a visit to the facilities.
I learned that blandness is now a recognised cognitive disorder and that a woman from Argentina recently had her left kneecap shaped into the face of Michael Jackson. My veruccas tingled when I read this. Great fan of old Whacko I am. But here’s a tip from Uncle Bob.
Never Moonwalk after you have defecated and still have your trousers around your ankles. You will look stupid and the chances of having a cat break your fall are extremely rare.
I count myself lucky that Ernie, their dopey Tomcat was lounging to no effect outside the toilet and cushioned the impact of my fall.
After several flushes to send my waste (and parts of squashed Ernie) on its way to the Thames, I returned to Darren, now using extraordinarily fruity language as he engaged the hot feed.
Ernie’s whereabouts remain a mystery. Reckon I’ll keep quiet on that one. No point upsetting everyone.
The washing machine works a treat though. Every cloud and all that…………
Laters
Bob
