My Lost Va Va Voom, and Other Stories

As a child I was prone to verbal mishaps, mostly my mistakes were gently corrected, laughed at, or ignored. Denim became deminimum and aluminium became aluminiminimummmn. I avoided Birmingham and would often find myself steering the conversation towards Manchester. Like many children I had a problem with the Grand Prix, and with that well known car manufacturing firm...

It was a special occasion, friends and relatives were coming for Sunday tea; Mum had opened a fresh can of spam and had baked a Victoria sponge. She'd also done a salad and some other boring stuff featuring pineapple chunks, and half a grapefruit. As we sat around the dining table my Aunt began to tell us about her brand new car, she marvelled over its luxurious leather interior, and its faux wooden dashboard. I could see it through the window parked on our driveway - new, red and very shiny. I was most impressed. I sighed before asking loudly and enthusiastically, 'Dad, when are you going to get a big vulva like Auntie Pam's?'
Such a shame that my Uncle had just popped a pickled onion into his mouth, but at least his choking provided a welcome distraction.

Apologies! I have been poking around in the Scarlet Blue archives searching for my lost Va Va Voom! The above tale was originally from 2010.