I love my little sister. I always did. She’s fun, and rather wonderful.
But being a big brother, and now a professional torture merchant, I had to learn my trade somewhere.
Louise is her name. But from the age of five, she was always Loo Wees. The pan, plus its contents. Poor dear, to this day, parcels may still arrive at her door bearing this name.
And looking back, she really didn’t deserve some of the ribbing she got – or to be honest the fact that I once attempted to sell her in the ‘Horses’ section of the local advertiser.
On that occasion she only got one inquiry – but rather beautifully it was she who picked up the phone to it.
‘Hello. I’m phoning about Louise.’
So, may I use these pages to publicly thank Loo Wees for kick-starting my career in the world of torture.
So I’m sure this is where I must have picked up my brand of toilet humour. I mean, where else could it have come from? After all, I can’t think of another name that is redolent of toilets. Can you?