Top of the plops

My mother was the first to note a certain family trait; no matter the topic at hand, any conversation involving one or more of us will turn to shit. Or piss. Anything lavatorial, really.

Julie isn't a family member in the genetic sense, but when it came to integrating with my family, she hit the ground running, and has barely slowed down since. Certainly, when it came to my father, she could do no wrong. Anything she said, no matter how ribald or piss-taking it was, was greeted by a full-on snigger from Dad. Seriously, she got away with stuff we would never have even dared contemplate broaching with my father. The bald patch received special treatment, as I recall...

And yes, this does mean that Julie often joins in with phrases for flushing.

Today, for example, Julie decided to call it a night. Wearily dragging herself up the stairs, she decided to parody a certain little ditty made famous by the nephew of Kermit the Frog.

Yes, I know the word is 'down', but that doesn't really matter, does it?

"Uncle Kermit? That's not right, is it?"

He's right. It's not. Here's the original.