The After Grog Bog was not talked about today. The devastation horrendous, good glaven, what a spray.
Of solid size and formidable force, the logs tugged on my anus, like the reins on a horse.
With each agonising push I hoped for the plop, that sound that signals the brown will stop.
And the plops I did hear, using all my might. It was music to my ears. Like a symphony of shite.