Another fine mess I’ve got myself into

MY WIFE was getting clothes out of the washing machine when she held up one of my T-shirts, saying: ‘This stain hasn’t come out!’ It made me reflect on the fact that, however nicely I dress, my clothes seem to come under attack. This is not a new thing. Years ago, when walking under a railway bridge in London, pigeon mess hit my trouser leg, and despite it being made of manmade and washable material, the white stain never disappeared. As part of my job, I visited people in their homes. I was invariably wearing a suit, which was a magnet for toddlers with sticky fingers. There were cats that just had to sit on my lap and shed half their fur. Friendly dogs would rush up to me and rub their hairy, foodand drink-stained chops all over me. I always wore a fixed smile and only examined my clothes back at my car. But not all my experiences were bad. My wife and I were eating in an Italian restaurant in St Helier, Jersey. I was smartly dressed and took a chance by ordering a pasta

Outofthemouths ofbabes

MY FOUR-YEAR-OLD grandson George had ignored several requests by his father to clean his teeth. My son thought an explanation of the importance of dental hygiene might help. He said: ‘You know all those sweets you have just eaten? Well, they are causing damage to your teeth as we speak.’ ‘Don’t speak then, Daddy,’ was the logical reply. Mrs J. C. Byrne, Harrow, Middlesex.

Joke

MY BROTHER’S so naive. A film star asked him for a date. When he told me, I said: ‘Wow! Where did you go with her?’ He replied: ‘Go? Nowhere . . . I sent her a whole box!’ David Webb, Sompting, W. Sussex. dish. My wife ordered fish. Without warning, a waiter came up behind me and covered my top half with what appeared to be a massive bib. I hadn’t asked for this, but he helpfully pointed out that eating pasta could be messy. I did get some amused glances from other diners, but at the end of the meal I was glad that the tomato sauce stains were not on my shirt. However, it was a rare escape!

Don Townshend, Chelmsford, Essex.

Follow-up

THE letter regarding buying newspapers on holiday (Peterborough) made me smile. I never pay for a daily paper abroad. Like the street hawker in the letter, I observe those around the pool and retrieve their papers when binned — much to the embarrassment of my family.

Lynne Lea, New Earswick, N. Yorks.