This one time, at band camp....

How many blog posts in the world, to date, do you reckon have that title?

Moving right along...


One year, when I was about five or six, I'd say, I got taken to see Santa. I remember it was in Perth. I'd gone with my Mum on a special Mummy/daughter holiday. I had a ball.

I pooed my pants. In the line. Waiting to see Santa. I remember. Oh the shame of it all.

And I have the photo. Innocent as you like, grins a-plenty. And a borrie in my pants. I wasn't fooling anyone, though. Least of all the poor bastard hired by the shopping centre to receive children of all shapes, sizes and smells.

Dear God.