I've mentioned before how most people are not really that interested in somebody elses baby, which is why I spared you, my beloved readers, the details of my new niece. So when a colleague, of whom I have a fairly jaded opinion anyway, rolls in pushing a pram and there is the expectation that we'll all coo over the miraculous child, I am a little conspicuous in my failure to participate. All the mothers of young children gather around, cluck cluck, and, under the guise of admiration and adoration, comment on just how beautiful their own progeny were at four months, and how this particular infant is "hmmm, a bit small for her age...", and it all gets a little competitive. Almost a meeting, really...
I, however, take the opportunity to deliver a particularly ruthless fart; and I had been practising all morning with some real stinkers, heh, heh; whilst perambulating past the perambulator. This has the double impact of a) distressing all those in the vicinity and b) rather taking the gloss off the 'event' as the baby is accredited with the drifting noxiousness and its mother is required to leave her meeting with her boss and take it away for inspection, with all the associated embarrassment.
Oh, how dastardly! What a rotter! Or simply a master of high-efficiency, low-cost bio-degradable weaponry?
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