A conversation with the lovely Mrs Duck reveals that she is not happy with the direction this site is taking. She has gone as far to suggest, after viewing some of the more scatological posts, that I "grow up a bit", and I am inclined to agree with her.I tell her, in my own pitiful defence, that what I write is simply a comic persona, an exaggeration of my true character, with all the knobs turned up to eleven. This can, at times, lead to a certain immaturity in my writing that might lead to only one thing in the Scaryduck household: WOE.
She, however, is an all-or-nothing kind of person, and is having none of my pleadings. For various reasons (most of which revolve around my having a mental age of about thirteen), she does not want her husband writing about:
* young ladies' wobbly parts
* pooing through letterboxes, it being the only language a certain class of people understand
* poo in general
* being sick inna hedge
* poo
... five days a week with little in the way of quality control.
As this comprises about 99 per cent of the content I write for these pages, that leaves precious little of TEH FUNNAY for you, my humble readership, so alternatives must be sought with all due urgency.
For the sake of my marriage, I have agreed to cut down on acting like a turd and publishing posts which are not, in retrospect, all that funny. I've been writing this stuff for six years now. Perhaps it is time that this site evolved, in a slow yet steady manner from the tried-and-tested and broke new ground of filth and smut. I mean - adult and responsible humour.
I am disappointed by this turn of events. Disappointed and sad. Disappointed, sad, and mildly aroused.
This means that in future there will be less scat and more quality. How I hope to achieve this, my entire empire built on poop, is anybody's guess, and I would welcome your comments.
In lieu of today's regularly scheduled TEH FUNNAY, I present a short film featuring your hapless author falling off a log.
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