Ye Gods, Laydees, thank goodness I've managed to struggle out of that leather harness at last! I feel that I've been strapped to that confounded commode for a month! I definitely shouldn't have bought those damned jars of Patagonian pickled winkle skins on special at Grabbits and then downed them with the dubious contents of that stone jar of Old Jocks' I found in the cellar at Bo-Peeps whilst on foot-patrol. That was folly indeed. So take heed, Laydees, of what you find rolling around at Bo's. Fine upstanding pillar of our community that she is, sometimes I feel that her lighthouse-like qualities are a beacon to some of the less desirable members of our tribe. Perhaps we need to beef-up our in-house security. There are one or two heavies down at the steam bath who might be persuaded to slip on a dress and go undercover on our behalf. What do you think? Meanwhile, I'll be returning the commode in the morning after the paint has dried. I'm told that the queue to use it is now out of the door.