"Well, so long, Hortense," said Humphrey, "I'm off now."
"You've been off since you took that assault course in 1944,” said his wife. "See you in a couple of months," said Humphrey.
"Oh no you don't," said Hortense, holding him back by his ear, "you'll see me same as usual when you come home from the gravel pits."
"I've changed me vocation," said Humphrey, "I'm off on a mission to Majorca."
"Top secret?" said Hortense, twisting his ear anti-clockwise. It hurts more that way.
"Hardly," said Humphrey, not minding the pain because of the semiconscious bliss that pervaded him. "I'm just going to spend my time looking for FO 777. No, leggo me ear, I'm all agog."
"What's FO 777—a pre-war Bentley?" asked Hortense.
"It's Female Operative No. 777," replied Humphrey, "and my mission is to find her in Majorca before some other swine finds her first.”
"That's not going to take you a couple of months," said his wife.
"I reckon to find her in a week," said Humphrey, "the rest of the time is for social bliss."
"I thought so,” said Hortense. "Come here," she said and yanked him indoors, belted him stupid and then made him stand in a corner until all his hot romantic flushes had died down.
Humphrey, you see, had heard that Yorkshire girl GLORIA GENE was going to Majorca, and as Gloria is a honey-eating cracker who looks marvellous in a Majorcan bikini measuring 36-24-36, Humphrey didn't want to be left out of all the joys of playing beach ball with her. It was Hortense who sabotaged him.
Wives are lovely and protective.
Gloria is not only shapely, but she keeps in shape by enjoying all the vigour of an outdoor life, and among her pursuits is a love of swimming in natural waters, not pools. Her home town is Goole in Yorkshire.
