Unbelievably frightful programme on telly tonight as we had our rather late tea after mucking about in the garden all day.
Called Embarrassing Bodies.
So the clue IS in the name, but we didn't know, OK?
'This looks rather fun,' said I, munching a scone dripping with raspberry jam.
And so we watched it, on our tiny kitchen telly, the five of us.
Suddenly, across my consciousness, came the word, Weak Bladder.
'Crikey,' I said, 'I thought that lady said Weak Bladder.'
'That lady DID say Weak Bladder,' said Husband, crunching his way through a ginger biscuit.
We all chewed contentedly for a few seconds. When, all of a sudden, the Lady whipped off her knickers and was showing the Entire World her Bare Arse.
We all, as one, spat out the contents of our mouths.
And screamed. Howled with horror. And then started to laugh in earnest.
Could not contain ourselves.
More Bottoms were shown. Full on bottoms. Youngest's eyes were out on stalks.
Could not get strength in legs to get up and turn off the Carnage.
Huge Breasts came out. A Rectum.
We were Beside Ourselves.
'Ker'ist,' gasped I, 'Think I will have Weak Bladder in a moment.'
And at last the Torment was over and we were able to turn over to The Weather Lady. Never have we been so glad to see anyone, Ever, before.
We wiped our streaming eyes, poured more tea and settled ourselves down.
'Glad we didn't see a Man,' said Youngest, conversationally, 'Or we would have had to look at his Willy.'
Spat out remaining tea and gave up to Hysteria.