What's for supper?

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Mrs J insists I eat sprouts then complains about the noxious (and often noisy) emissions later. Especially when we're in a supermarket. I get sent to the middle of lidl when we're in there.
Which is a safe distance especially as the missus is shopping in Sainsbury’s!
 
I once had a most lurid green very baggy shirt even my mother (who never criticised my clothes) felt she had to ask 'why?' my dearest and closest lady friends who were with me said 'It's like this Malv.' (Mother's name is Malvina) 'after an evening in the Scotchman (and his pack, a pub just a stone's throw from the nurse's hostel at the Bristol Royal infirmary), a gallon of Butcombes washed down with a kebab, we were mooching around the clothing section of Debenhams in Bristol when Emyr laid one down, so foul, even he turned green - a shop assistant turned up to ask if we needed assistance, so grabbing the nearest article of clothing and saying we'd buy it was the only way of getting her away from ground zero'
 
This conversation has proved true to form, all conversations end with discussion of poo
I can assure you, I did not follow through - it was a close run thing but luckily, the otter just poked his nose out, changed his mind and went back to bed.
 

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