Bluebottle

You know when you have met a "Jolly nice chap" or as Harry Enfield would say, "Bloody nice bloke."

Well my chap was heard and seen lumbering around the garden/building site in her cut-off trousers, for use with her wellies, waterproofs and my Mere boots with Australian Laces (Velcro). She shrieked quietly at me, hissed then gave in. I had my blip. She had her collection of dog poo, which we put down the mains sewer. Lucky us.

As you can see the wall at the rear is coming along nicely. :-))

Mrs Booty really is a good sport because she knew immediately she heard the camera clicking away what was going to happen. So she smiled and laughed at her outrageously caddish husband. When we lived in Sarawak she was the social secretary of the rugby club, I organised and ran the fitness training. Your leaving do involved a huge outdoor meal in the local Kedai or outside eatery; part of the fun was hurling serving spoons at the cat sized rats running along the guttering. About 40- 50 of the players and playeresses would attend. At the end of the meal it was customary to run the full length of the table and perform a swallow dive into the outstretched arms of the team. If they liked you they caught you, if not you ploughed a furrow.

They caught her and made several unsuccessful attempts to fumble me!!! Bloody typically poor handling skills. I know she'll get her own back but when, that's the scary bit.

Why Bluebottle? Well in the Goon Shows 'bottle is a scarecrow clad little cockney from Finchley, 'nuff said. Here is our future King being sorted out by one of my old bosses, Al MacGregor, his flying instructor.
Bluebottle