Anyway, even though the stoat detector didn’t quite work quite as advertised, still managed to detect three cars, a piece of toast and a small purple-handled screwdriver that had become lodged under Grand Old Uncle Stagnant since the mince pie incident the Christmas before last.
So, all in all, after all that then it wasn’t quite the waste of money that Maureen had claimed when I pointed it out to her in the catalogue. Although, to be fair to her, the Giant Ebony Throbbing Tickler that she chose from her own – rather more specialised – catalogue* was more of a success. It does seem to have brought a smile to her face in a way I’ve not seen since that time she spent the evening with the other ladies of the village looking after our local blacksmith, Strom Thighhammer, after he was overcome during his ‘Fireman’s Pole’ dance routine for the Ladies’ Night down at the village hall.
Anyway, I think the Stoat Detector is bound to come in useful for something, if not exactly detecting stoats, then as a conversation piece or something for prising the Wellington boots off recalcitrant choir girls prior to the rehearsals for the choir recital and all-village orgy on the next Free-Form Perversion Night down at the village hall a week on Wednesday.
* Christmas Gift Catalogue 2009 - Splodge & Sons (Purveyors of Marital and Sexual aids to the gentry since 1789).