“How you diddling Auntie Maud – long-time no see?”

“Diddling – I’ve never diddled anyone in me life Eric. How dare you accuse your old auntie thus – some nephew you are. Bloody cheek of it! Anyway have you seen me foghorn?”

“Foghorn Auntie Maud?  I really thought you’d given up on all that old malarkey after the incident in the abattoir. That poor man, you know, Del the Slaughterer – you made him jump to the extent that he incapacitated himself with his own stun gun after receiving an electric shock of 300 volts. The problem was made ever so worse though as his stun gun was in his lap at the time – of course he’ll never procreate now and his missus has left him ‘cause she couldn’t stand his new found high pitched voice a moment longer. Why on earth did you let out a blast of such magnitude right in his earhole when he least expected it?”

“I certainly didn’t mean to blast him with it – it was just that I had one of me occasional spasms and pulled the trigger. Hell of a noise though in such a confined space – me ears were ringing for days afterwards.”

“Certainly was Auntie Maud. Christ the stampeding livestock blocked the Mile End Road for hours; even made the national news on TV. Still I’ve heard tell it was nothing compared to the Jim Reeves concert at the Hammersmith Palais back in the day. What was it now?”

“Oh that….um….it was a tad embarrassing. Of course Jim Reeves was me idol. Me occasional spasms had just started back then and as Jim – wonderful man that he was – was singing away the second verse of Distant Drums me hand went all of a quiver and bingo the foghorn sounded off. Jim, in a state of heightened shock, fell of the stage into the orchestra pit and was knocked unconscious never to perform in England ever again.”

“The thing is Auntie Maud why on earth do you have to carry a foghorn wherever you go. I mean it’s not like it serves any useful purpose now is it?”

“Look son when you’re as old as me you will I feel sure understand that you need a foghorn about your person – you know….just in case.”

“In case of what Auntie Maud?”

“The fog Eric – the fog. This is London and we are renowned for fog and peasoupers. There’s even a song about it, you know, A Foggy Day in London Town. Mind Frank Sinatra wasn’t too chuffed when me foghorn went off at the London Palladium just as he was singing the line, ‘I viewed the morning with alarm.’ Superstar that he was he still jumped out of his skin. I heard afterwards that he really thought Don Carlo Gambino had put a contract out on him. Any way have you found my foghorn yet?”

“Yes Auntie Maud I have. If you must have it with you at all times just trip the safety catch down so it doesn’t go off randomly when a spasm is about you.”


“Thanks Eric – by the way are you still working as an Audiologist, a scientific position requiring an acute audible sensory perception to detect minute audible variances for sound-resistant technology.”


“Certainly am Auntie Maud…… God no Auntie Maud not another spasm….please God not now….”




Eric, deafened for the rest of his natural days was thereafter consigned to the scrapheap of the great unwashed!


16 thoughts on “AUNTIE MAUD’S FOGHORN!

    1. She’s a miserable old dear – can’t see her letting you have it. Moreover she smokes like a chimney so best she doesn’t read you latest – and most excellent – poem!

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