Due to some stunningly bad housekeeping on my part ( well, I did warn him before he married me that I was a rubbish housewife) we managed to run out of soap yesterday.

“We’ll pick some up on the way to the studio”, says I. After walking round the shop three times and not being able to see any I asked the man behind the counter; “Do you have any soap?”

“Yes dear, all  different kinds. It’s all on the back wall. Look.” I was impressed that such a small  corner shop would have a whole selection of soaps. I turned round to survey my choices.

And  looked  up; at a wall full of tins and tins of assorted soups.

“No, I meant SOAP not SOUP.” The gentleman looked at me strangely.

“Hang on, I’ll try it in a local accent. “Av yenny sawp?”

Instantly his expression cleared and he replied, “Oh! Sawp “(funny to hear from an Asian chap). “Gnaw loov, wiv no sawp, only shower gel.”

Shower gel it is then.




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