The True Adventures of Saul Porridge

Who are you staring at? And where's my dinner??

One morning Tim spotted a rip in Saul's shirt, approximately mid-back and flesh-revealing. An email was hastily dispatched accusing Saul of being a "closet naturist". Saul's reply was brisk...

Tim,
Since Naturism is all about getting fresh air to those parts unaccustomed to it , I cannot see the point in stripping naked and locking yourself in a cupboard! As it happens, my 'auto - flash' strides have been consigned to the charity shop bag, following an embarassing incident last night when THE BUTTON holding my kecks up made a bid for earth orbit as I got out of the car lugging too many shopping bags for me to prevent the inevitable consequential exposure. A broken fly was the least of my worries as I abandoned the shopping and hobbled to my front door like a kid in a sack race.

My famous dirigible boots finally failed muster last night. A close inspection revealed extensive corrosion by self-generated chemicals unknown to science, and severe structural defects which rendered them unsuitable for mortgage purposes. I intend to light a fire in them and float them out to sea in fine Viking tradition. I then found myself without external footware : the possibility of wearing slippers to work may have resulted in a complete breakdown of sartorial protocol in the software office, with cardigans, pipes and plus fours becoming de riguer. A search in dark corners revealed an open grave containing a previous, undead set of footware. An inspection revealed that they were not beyond a bit of sorcery, so I set to work with the Araldite and a pair of scissors. This morning I was pleased to see that despite my 'new' shoes being firmly stuck the bottom of the heavy cardboard box placed on top of them to aid adhesion, they appeared usable. Careful surgery and a bit of liquid boot polish did the trick. I have now only to break them in again ( the Araldite is very hard on the toes ) before I am once again able to walk at my accustomed jaguar-like pace so long denied me by the shards of cast iron for so long attached to my hooves.

.. End of stream of *****