Very much afraid that the senior member of the Lawless mob is away with the fairies. And no, I don’t mean those fairies. Am also suffering from a decaying memory and a ruptured constitution.
I’ve done all the daft things one does. You know, cleaning the few remaining teeth with Preparation H. I realised my error before I tackled my piles with Colgate which would not have been so traumatic but further evidence of my declining capabilities.
Don’t you ever try it, incidentally. It tastes terrible and shrinks the gums so comprehensively that I thought teeth were going to pop out.
And while Colgate is supposed to give one the ring of confidence that does not apply to the nether regions. Certainly not to my nethers, anyway.
I have also applied denture fixative to my feet and an anti-fungal powder to my dentures. Not quite the thing but a certain cure for loose toenails and athlete’s gob.
Thus far I have avoided confusing Harpic with Lily of the Valley talc. I do believe that Harpic-ing the dangly bits would send a man screeching round the bend in great discomfort.
A mate of mine’s hostile relationship with his wife turned even nastier once when he took advantage of her temporary absence to clean a 500cc Norton engine in the bath.
He cleaned up the scene of the crime quite adequately but unhappily left an aerosol degreaser on the window ledge. The wife running late for work grabbed it and gave herself a three-second burst in the left armpit and knew immediately that all was not well. This was decidedly not a case of turning an armpit into a charmpit.
He accepted the blame and said it was a natural mistake. Why, only the other day he had tried to degrease a gearbox with Lynx.
She said ‘great, but I bet it didn’t come out in big red itchy spots.’ It all ended in tears, naturally. But this about 50 years ago and I just wanted to make the point that you don’t have to be a wrinkly to confuse the very many aerosols available even then.
Meanwhile, it is a terrible thing when the pressures of old age increase the need to drink and the pressures of drink increase the ravages of old age.
It must have been very much like that during prohibition in America --it made you want to cry in your beer, but denied you the beer to cry into.
Incidentally, did I wish you all a happy new year? I really can’t remember...