Jacqueline burbled on and the exhausted Bertie thought he would escape from her hectoring by burying his nose in her cleavage. But it was not to be. Much to his surprise – and hers – he let out a shuddering fart. It was spontaneous (and sincere) and it brought his attempt to lose himself in her bosom to an abrupt end.
It seemed to her that it was no coincidence that he trouser coughed at the very moment she instructed him to “stay woke”.
“Did you just sphincter gurgle?” the indignant Jacqueline asked. “It was more of a cheek-squeeker. It came out just like a woke-up fart,” he said defensively, attempting to cover his backside.
“We’re going to have to do more work on your grasp of woke,” she said. “You should have said ‘wake-up fart’, which is a rectal bed-warmer brought on by early morning stirring,” she explained, with the slow deliberation of the professional governess.
“Thank you, darling,” said Bertie. “I’ll try to hang on to that.”