(pen) I hope he hasn't been, er, well, sort of Emptying His Raingauge.

[penelope] He popped his clogs on your back doorstep? What a shame, he sounded like such a nice bloke. My sympathy is with you m'dear.

[pen] Has he left a message in them?

[Duj] I sniggered at your black joke, and reminded myself to make sure he has plenty of life insurance.

[Darren] No, the message *is* the clogs, i.e. "I'll be back". I've just booked another flight to go over there for ten days later this month :oD

[Rosie] I suppose we could calibrate the empty clogs on the back door step to become raingauges...

(pen) Have you heard of the Cloggies, a cartoon strip of yesteryear, by Bill Tidy? They were a clog-dancing group from a northern industrial town. They won their competitions by assault which normally consisted of co-ordinated knees to the goolies of their opponents. One of their members was The Blagdon Amateur Rapist, a middle-aged man who wore nothing but shoes, socks and a tie and humped anything that moved. Let none of this distasteful nonsense detract you from your burgeoning romance.

[rab] You still on honeymoon? You seem to have been there for ages.

I was going to tell you I'd just cut down a bush, then remembered what a euphemistically-inclined lot you were and decided against it.

Nah, tis conference season.