On the assumption that this blog attracts more elephants than goldfish, anyone who read last week's attempt at toilet humour will remember that amongst the usual comments dragging this work of literary art into the pulp fiction gutter, there was one from Milton Keynes suggesting that our new toilet seat looks like a South Park character. I foolishly replied that I'd get Amelie to peep through it later for a photo. Something I subsequently decided against for reasons of hygiene. And because I couldn't be bothered.

But the good news is that a comment like that is like a red rag to a bull. Or an orange anorak to a concrete cow. And as it happens, I don't just know people who could open a sweet shop. I know people who can open Photoshop. Within days of publishing my WC field report, this image was winging its way to me from Burgess Hill...


That comes courtesy of Chappers, a man who clearly has an uncanny insight into the Gardner family traits. I'm Cartman, the big-boned glutton with the chocolate and popcorn, and Amelie's Kenny. Most of what she says is unintelligible, and she's always on the verge of an accident.