Wall, Hush Mah Mouf…

There have been times when I’ve said the wrong thing to the wrong people. Awkward times. Angry times. Times I do not wish to relive. So I have learned to keep my big mouth shut.

It has not been easy. the muscles that open the jaw and activate the vocal chords and tongue are linked to the portion of the brain that is known scientifically as the wizzbango cortex. Any stimulation of the cortex by listening to rubbish leads to an immediate release of a smart aleck remark. It moves down the neural pathways to the organs of speech and then escapes the lips. It’s generally done at a speed and volume that prevents it from being captured before it reaches the ears of the aforementioned wrong people.

I called upon a neuro surgeon who performed an operation on me to sever the connection between the cortex and the lower neck region. It has healed well and I can now stand in a cocktail party and listen to people who have never been further away than Bunbury tell me all about what is wrong with Washington. I can be told how colloidal silver and Bitcoin will save the world. I can listen to complaints about the onions in a Bunnings bun…

I blessed the surgeon and his skill last week at a festive dinner when I sat next to a very nice young millenial man who was just finishing some sort of complex degree in psychology . He told us how he will be accepted into the military as an officer and start counselling SAS soldiers about how to reform their lives. Had I not had the operation, the only way I could have prevented myself from disgrace would have been to stuff bread rolls and napkins in my mouth until no sound escaped. As it was, I did get up and go for a jimmy, but I’m afraid I started laughing mid-pee and splashed a bit.

My next trial will at the early Christmas dinner with the wife’s relatives. Fortunately they make good potatoes and you can cram them in during┬ámoments of crisis. I’ll carry a Bunnings bun in case I get caught out away from the table.

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