Sunday, 14 February 2010

Talking Of Tent Pegs

Talking of tent pegs, I was reading a children’s book in bed last night; reading to myself – there were no minors present. Which is just as well. Look.
I’ve had to blank the last bit out: it... it’s meant to be a children’s story! Although I can report, I slept without nightmares; indeed, I woke-up this morning thinking, it’s about time I bought a new sleeping bag. I fall asleep with a bulge in the canvas, wake-up wanting to splash-out on a new sleeping bag.
If I didn’t know better I’d think an unoccupied Nullah was an unfulfilled toilet-tent. And if toilet-tents could talk, I bet you wouldn’t meet a single one (and they are all single by nature – tall and thin – with only room enough for one) that wouldn’t tell you how it longs to be a normal, family-tent. Toilet-tents must really resent family-tents. Talking toilet-tents are a bad idea: who wants to hear an endless drench of latrine lamentation?

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