Moyra Melons was rather pleased with her wobbly blamanche, as one might well imagine. She had made a pair of them and awaited, in eager anticipation, for her husband to come in.
As he walked through the door, he saw his beloved wife Moyra smiling at him and holding the tray in front of her.
"Well, what do you think of these wobbly little things?"
"I think your ear rings are wonderful darling," he said not wanting to get caught out, as he had done on previous occasions. "Your ear rings are always divine Moyra."
She smiled. "No darling, this time its not my ear rings I want you to admire. Try to lower your gaze, below my chin line, and tell me about these lovely pink wobbly things you see before you."
"Oh God!" he muttered as he dropped his gaze while breaking out in a very hot and sweating flush. "They look very alluring darling," he replied hoarsely.
"Oh God!" he muttered as he dropped his gaze while breaking out in a very hot and sweating flush. "They look very alluring darling," he replied hoarsely.
"Good enough to eat?" she smiled keenly.
"Oh yes," he replied. "Most definitely."
"Then what are you waiting for?" she smiled saucily.
The red mist came down over his eyes, while in the background of his metamorphosised mind he could hear a great fanfare of trumpets bellowing. Suddenly he was a caveman returning from the mammoth hunt. He roared once as the living room door was kicked shut.
Moyra learnt what her wobbly blamanches could do to a bloke and thought perhaps her presentation of such divine attributes should be done slightly different in future.
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