oooh er missus

The beautiful chermopodist pushed a curtain of dark hair from her eyes.
Leaning towards me all business like, she cast a searching look upon my gingerly proffered toe.
At my shoulder Captain Jean Luc Picard of the Starship Enterprise muttered: "Open fire Mr Worf."
Ah yes.
Freud would have a field day.
(That old gag. - Sigmund Freud note.)
"James are you sticking to the new diet?" enquired the chermop.
I smiled guiltily.
(Goutily. - Ed note.)
"I am," I breezed.
She shook her head.
"Tell me," sez she, "what real changes have you made to your old eating habits."
I thought hard.
"Well," sez I, "I've put an end to slap up feeds with lashings of ginger beer whenever I solve mysteries."
I could tell by the grim stare of the chermop that she was already more than half in love with me.
And somewhere the ghost of Enid Blyton was smiling.