I laughed to see a pudden...

 crawl...

Was it the two medium sized firkins of Chile’s finest I wonder, or maybe just to be out footloose and Mr.Kipling’s iced fancy... free?  Anyway I digress, or even perish the thought... deviate!

As we sat in Ludlow’s answer to a proper pub, onto the table himself laid his hands in the manner of a medium about to call up passing spirits. He could so easily have magicked up the oiuja board from the back of his creepy cloak.  Magic was in the air.  Tears sprung to my eyes, not driven by fear sadly. Terror coursing through the sluggish veins has got to be good  for the blood pressure of a woman of a certain age.  Dyno-Rod of a human kind, clearing crud as it sloshes and sluices all before it, by way of a stick of Semtex down a sewer of old London Town.

Merriment has always been my default position.  Himself calls me a daft tart, can’t imagine why?  I am fully aware I am not getting to the nub of the story.  So here goes...

You will have heard of Cluedo, Ludo even. Smack the rat at a push? Snap most definitely! Have you heard of the game of Splat the Mouse?  No?  I am not surprised, as its conception has taken place here in darkest Shropshire.  Here I ought to explain to my readers from far and wide that I call a blood blister under the nail, a mouse, not sure if this is my own home-grown colloquialism or maybe it is known the world over, round, down and back... dunno?  Anyway, the start of the run was the loo seat, it fell on his thumb as he was cleaning around the bend.  Why he didn’t leave it to his chum Mr Muscle I haven’t got to the bottom of?  The twins, he acquired when sorting out the double edged rat killing machine.  No rats were despatched just two more mice came into being.  Completely defeating the ruddy idea, if you ask me.

Three down, seven to go.  A royal flush?