Wednesday, 30 November 2011

Busted Tennis Ball Causes Embarrassment

Connie Brix's latest tennis ball is now a soggy, chewed-up mess.  It's hardly a 'ball' anymore; just two semi-separate flaps, held togther by dried dog spit.

Connie dumped it at my feet, wanting me to throw it.  I picked it up, went 'yuk' and said to Man Friday: 'This isn't a tennis ball, it's a pair of tennis flaps.'
He said: 'Ah, but Connie loves it.'  So I threw it, and said: 'Dunno where they use these sorts of balls, only at Wimbleflaps.'

And Man Friday came to the back door with a disgusted look on his face.  He said: 'Never say Wimbleflaps again.  I've got an awful picture in my head of naked Wombles.'  I laughed.  But he pulled an even worse face.  I said: 'What is it?'  He said: 'I keep thinking of Madame Cholay.'

p.s. if you've never seen The Wombles, ignore the above.

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