Hog Merde, look closely........

Last year I cut a small hole in our fence to encourage Hedgehogs to use the garden, eat our slugs and snails then hibernate in the newly constructed Hog Home. It has all worked, so much so that Miss Jones, our resident Hog, has seen fit to create her own potty area. The slug like deposits are her droppings. Detective Chief Inspector Morse accompanied me this morning to make his assessment of the situation. He wrinkled his nose, really! We, the Garden Fairy and I declare our tiny effort a success. I suppose I may now clear up. 

In old news. Robert was sent to the Physio to have an ancient rugby injury assessed. This involved making my rather thick neck do things it didn’t want to. The lady physio stood in front of me, grabbed my head and started waggling it like a Labrador. OK, she was doing her job. I had noticed that her shirt buttons were slightly stretching her top. 
Over the next six weeks the treatment was repeated; she would grab my head and start rotating it. Her shirt buttons had become even tighter; on the final day I had worked up courage to ask, “When’s the baby due?” 
A deep growl was followed by a sharp twist, “I’m not pregnant.”