i spent an embarrassing evening at the isle of kevin trapped wind society last night.
they've only got five members, but they've been going for years.
they invited me to their annual dinner, which - strangely enough - happens once a year.
but i think it may be the last.
let's just say that the wind is no longer trapped.
it happened just as we reached the pudding course.
kev the chauffeur limped in with his wobbly profiteroles to hearty applause. well normally, you see, a man is out of action for weeks with that condition.
anyway, we polished off the dessert after a main course of baked bean and chick pea fritter, and i was just rising from my seat (to propose a toast), when maureen (the president) made a rather loud noise which blew out the windows.
doreen spilled her creme de menthe down the front of her overalls - she likes to dress for the occasion.
and poor old sid - well, his hair parted and his glasses shattered.
this seemed to be the cue for a series of explosions from the seat cushion department.
it was all over in minutes.
i picked myself up off the floor, and managed to save a profiterole from extinction beneath doreen.
the rest of them just lay there, panting.
i got a letter of thanks from maureen this morning but she was a bit shame-faced about it.
'i don't know how we can carry on after this,' she wrote. 'we've broken all the rules of our constitution.'
i phoned her up and told her not so be too hasty. another year of over-eating in kev's cafe will surely revive the fortunes of the trapped wind society.
she seemed grateful and called an emergency meeting.
in kev's cafe.
best put the annual dinner in my diary for next year, then.
let me know if you're available, i'll probably need an escort. i'm pretty sure doris is washing her hair that night.
x
2008-05-08 @ 11:00