Way back in the 1990s, and being the proud new father, I took the baby Scaryduckling into work to say hello to my colleagues.I sat her down on the console in the studio so she could watch the TV screens and blinking lights, but soon her look of awe changed into a completely different expression altogether.
Her face screwed up into a little ball, and it became apparant that the little lady was doing a poo on tens of thousands of pounds worth of very expensive gear, much to the amusement of my workmates.
No damage done, but I whisked the smelly little parcel away and she never went into my place of work EVER AGAIN.
And now, fifteen years on, my little baby has grown into a confident young woman starting off in her first paying job in a shop in Weymouth.
But should I walk in there and done a poo of the counter, instead of the hearty laughter of her colleagues, I'd almost certainly end up with an ASBO.
Where - I ask - is the justice?
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