As a child my mum used to threaten me, in particular the head part of me, with a large stone that sat prepossessingly on the front room mantelpiece, looking like a great and calcified mass of sticky popcorn. Now, I put my current inability to eat popcorn down to that one traumatic childhood experience. Well, I’ve just seen a woman who could make the same threat and induce equal terror in her son with just one of her Brobdingnagian breasts, which were hoisted and suspended to such effect that they too seemed as though displayed upon a shelf, as if waiting to release their vast store of potential energy squarely upon his Lilliputian head. Well, far be it from me to say anything of this particular boy’s likely future aversions…but Poor Bugger!
Manias Makyth Man