Big in the City

Today's good news is that even if Francis doesn't get a job, there's no reason why his bits shouldn't start earning their keep.

Another lovely cyberspace well-wisher and Megadik enthusiast who has obviously heard of our plight sends me an e-mail. Confusingly, it's addressed to Fred - just to spare my blushes, I suppose.

"I've some good news for you!" it says. God knows, we could do with some.

"I suggest you buy this marvelous item. Take it and your penis will work the whole night! I've tried it and my Ann was on the cloud 9!"

Of course she was. If she owned the thing in the first place she was probably just glad to see the back of it, and must in any case be delighted by the extra money all that work is bringing in.

I have just two queries. The first: what sort of work does he have in mind? From my experience of the male member, it would have to be something that involved lots of lolling around followed by a short burst of intense activity. Perhaps some sort of night-time surveillance?

And what exactly is 'This marvellous item' ? Presumably it's a very small adapted car, like one of those Richard Scary banana cars - I suppose transport wouldn't be provided.

So if you see unattended male members wearing bowler hats and bustling self-importantly off to the nearest station as dusk falls, or getting into suggestively shaped cars, don't panic. They've taken their owner's future into their own hands and are off to be something big in the City, just doing their bit for the family budget.

I text Francis, who is off to see a headhunter about some shaving cream, to tell him the news. Strangely, he doesn't reply.

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On another, altogether more tasteful note:

For an insight into life in the tartan lane, look no further than Mother at Large's blog. She's generously hosting some postings from New Town Mother, whose refreshing look on huntin', shootin', fishin', child raisin' and investment bankin', Scottish style, is well worth the trip over.