Oh boy! Now the pranks are on me

The story of perfect pranks for little horrors (Peterborough), brought back happy memories of my childhood in the Fifties. But in the past year I have used a tomato ketchup bottle that ‘squirted’ a length of red string instead of ketchup; used a mustard jar that springs out when opened; washed with soap in the bathroom that blacked my hands and face; found lifelike flies and spiders in strange places; been served a rubber fried egg and other food pranks; and been subjected to miscellaneous other powders and lotions with undesirable effects — all because my 11year-old grandson has found a joke shop! the quality of the items he buys is very good, the ketchup bottle and mustard jar being particularly authentic from the outside. It can be embarrassing when my grandson manages to sneak the items into houses when he’s visiting or sleeping over, replaces the real thing with his joke version and they are then used by the host (me) and other guests. although joke shops are few and far between, they still offer considerable scope for fun. I can’t agree with the previous writer that today’s more caring society would be horrified; in my experience, most pranks are accepted as harmless fun, perhaps with the exception of stink bombs, which continue to be very foul-smelling! With the typical adventurous mind of modern children, my grandson often uses the experience of his success with purchased items to invent pranks of his own. Some work well, with others being a bit duff. either way, it gives him considerable fun. For example, one evening in a restaurant queue, waiting to be allocated a table, I was wearing trousers that were zipped at the knee so they could be converted into shorts. Without me knowing, my grandson unzipped the lower half of my trousers, which duly fell about my ankles just as we were being led to the table — much to the amusement of my grandson and the other diners. I was very embarrassed, but it was too funny for me to be angry. Children today who don’t have a joke shop close by don’t know what they are missing!

John Martin, Swarthmoor, Cumbria.