The Writhing Blouse

Once again, on the plane from Dubai to London Badger and I were kept firmly under control. We were placed into our staff's seat-back pockets and ordered not to leave them. It wasn't too bad. If we wheeked loud enough we were hand fed limp airline lettuce to shut us up before the cabin crew found us. Getting us through security was a bit of an ordeal. My female staff decided that the best way was for us to be shoved up her blouse so that she looked like a typical fifty four year old pregnant lady and as such would not attract unwanted attention. We were advised not to wriggle about too much, but we hadn't been inside my female staff's blouse before so we were keen to explore. There were all sorts of lumps and bumps up there and a little hole with lots of fluff in. Anyway, our exploring must have attracted the attention of one of the nice security ladies because we heard someone say "Excuse me madam, Your stomach appears to be moving." My female staff said, " Oh. it's just my baby. I've had a curry and that always makes him kick a bit." The woman wasn't convinced and asked my female staff to lift her arms above her head so that she could take a closer look. My staff thought the game was up then and were convinced that we would all be sent back to Australia. However, just as the security woman was taking a closer look at my female staff's writhing blouse I poked my head out between two of the buttons. The poor woman had obviously recently watched the movie "Alien". Anyway, for whatever reason, at the sight of my furry face peering at her the woman passed out, and in the ensuing confusion my staff were able to step over her prone body and onto the plane.

Less than ten hours later we were at my male staff's sister's house and munching on some lovely fresh capsicum. The only downside of staying with my male staff's sister is that she has a large hairy thing with big teeth and a very smelly bottom passage. No, not her husband. She has a dog. Funny things dogs, they'll eat anything - including guinea pigs if they get the chance. Naturally I had to bite her tail at the first opportunity just to show her who was in charge. Once she understood the basic fact that guinea pigs are at the top of the food chain we got along famously and by the end of the day Badger and I were riding about the house on the dog's back. It was fun until she decided to roll over.

A couple of days later My staff, my male staff's poorly mum and his Auntie took us to lunch at a nice pub. We all ate heaps but the servings were enormous and there were plenty of leftovers which the daft humans decided to take home for my male staff's sister's dog. There were great chunks of chicken, a large piece of fish and about a kilo of chips. All this they wrapped up neatly in a couple of paper napkins. My male staff then asked for the bill, which was produced with alarming promptness. My male staff obviously looks the type to do a runner, not that anyone could possibly run after stashing away the amount of food that he just had. With a great show of reluctance he paid the bill and everyone waddled out of the pub. We were driving home when my male staff's Mum mentioned that we had forgotten to leave a tip. This alone wouldn't have mattered too much as tipping is not really customary in Britain, but the fact that we'd left the napkins filled with leftovers on the table made all the humans cringe a little. They all hoped that the poor waitress didn't think that it was her tip. In any case, the humans decided that they probably wouldn't go back there for a while just in case.