…how about ‘‘Toots’’?
Is that like a Bottom Burp?
…well,in gummy’s case,it’s more of a ‘shart’…
Oh dear, been there, done that!
OOPS. See,THAT’S why prune juice is good for you,spitty.
…you get to clench muscles you didn’t know you had!..
It’s only words.
Ah, that’s sad Gummy, not to worry, look on the bright side, at least it will make you feel more comfortable in your camouflage frock. ;-)
Actually no you can’t keep it Gummy, once it cannot be reattached it must be disposed of in the correct medical manner (incinerated), besides leaving it in the fridge could be dodgy, Mrs Gumbud could get it mixed up with the baby carrots and poison yer Irish stew. 
How do you know she makes me Irish stew? and do ya know how to make an Irishman stew?
As children, are we judgemental or simply curious?
As a child, I always knew my Uncle P was different, I just wasn’t sure why.
As a teenager, he was always striving to keep in with the WRONG crowd.
He lived with my Grandmother and was always in trouble.
Sunday roast was a ritual when I lived in Windsor.
One week they came to us, the next week my Dad drove us to Slough.
My Grandmother was an awful cook, she was of that era, she was as the youngest of seven girls, and they had servants, so when she eventually married at 30!!!, she must have struggled.
But I was told I had to eat what she cooked.
On the Sundays that we went to Slough, my Uncle P was on strict orders to bring the fizzy pop.
He would arrive late, and a little drunk, with no fizzy, and both my Mother and Grandmother would shout at him.
He in defence would attempt to shout back at them, but on top of his learning problems, he also had a bad stammer.
This I found very amusing, as the B word never quite came out as intended. I would try to hold in the fact that I wanted to laugh out loud.
Bbbbbbb bbbbbb bbbb then suddenly sod it, he would say!!!
Not in front of the children, my Grandmother would say, you have been down that pub consorting with yobbo’s and lose women.
I had visions of what lose women may look like, let alone yobbo’s.
Eventually, we all sat down to eat a greasy roast, and I have never seen anyone eat as fast as Uncle P, nor have I since.
But, I was fond of my Uncle P, and I think he was also of me.
After dinner, I would sit on his lap and give him a hug.
He was fascinated by anything to do with war, he had books and books on Tanks and Aircraft, he would try to engage me to have interest, but, I just humoured him. I would have prefered a story, but his stammer would never allow that.
wot a lovely story SP - more more - applause applause applause!!
I do have more for tomorrow.
It is wine night. x
yes I’ve started wining it up or is that winding it up - oh you’ve got me all confused again!
I have that effect sometimes.
Don’t start stammering or I will laugh.
yes when spitty starts stuttering his jack hammer just goes off alarmingly!
We all get carried away under pressure.
well me pressure is bubblin all over right now!
Watch that valve.
Run! Run for your lives! Gummy’s going to explode!
did ya bring ya camera CM - there’s gonna be some awesome pics in a mo!
Oh, I am waiting for them.
Hello Ciderz, I have seen the awful news my lovely. x