Ee Ba Gum

Yesterday evening yours truly carelessly fell asleep in bed while still chewing gum. With the gum dropping out of my drooling unconscious gob, luckily jeopardy from choking was negated; however, it’s fair to say, being a very hairy fella I didn’t emerge from this incident unscathed.

With an accompaniment of hair follicles being torn unforgivingly from my back and stomach during this morning’s initial body movements, it soon became clear all was not well in the Strachan bed chamber at reveille.

Despite many previous offers by sadistic ‘friends’ to undertake the task, I’ve never been in receipt of a body wax. However, I’d suggest they can’t be any more painful than the discomfort experienced attempting to gain liberty from bedsheet areas which’d been in contact with my errant gum (seven in all).

Yelping like a scalded cat, I tentatively freed myself from each sticky nightmare. The viscosity of the gum, along with the difficulty at escaping it’s vice-like grasp, driving home why it takes the power of a jet-blasting hose to remove it from pavements.

With doubts about whether a power blaster would be as effective at removing chewing paste from human skin as it proves at cleaning paving stones, in particular a very hirsute human’s skin, it was soon clear an alternative cleaning solution was required.

My buddy Sarah suggest WD40 and wire wool. However, after pointing out I was covered in gum not bloody rusting, she proceeded to carefully remove each stuck up area with hot water, washing up liquid and a small pair of scissors.

Footnote – When I say carefully, what I really mean was Ossett’s finest purged the gum with all the grace and hand steadiness of someone with a chronic case of St Vitus Dance.

That being said, in Sarah’s defence, she was having to undertake the task while GJ Strachan held her wriggling grandson Rory. Wrestling an inquisitive 9 month old not conducive to remaining stock-still during delicate bodily hair removal procedures. Consequently, her efforts at being forensically accurate in her grooming role proved somewhat challenging. Difficulty, it has to be said, not of her making.

Anyhow, after maybe 15 minutes of the fragrant Yorkshire lass’ efforts, GJ Strachan’s torso was gum free. The corrective work by Sarah leaving me with seven hair free patches around my rib cage, stomach and back….. It has to be said, not the cosmetic look I was seeking two weeks before my upcoming sunshine holiday.

Consequently, I look like the scabby sheepdog in a recent Specsavers advert after being inadvertently sheared by a short-sighted shepherd…… And with me yet to shower today, at the minute, I probably also smell like the bedraggled mutt.

Apart from several moments of uncontrollably laughter throughout the whole sorry incident, Sarah, who if her surname was Painrey would be an anagram of Hairy Pan Arse, showed great sensitivity during my embarrassing plight….. Actually, coming to think of it, she was incredibly unsupportive while undertaking her half assed grooming procedure. Strike that from the record, your honour.

Thanks a lot Brooky, it’ll take some time before I forget your insensitivity during this morning’s trauma laden episode…… Right, what was I talking about again?!

Ee Ba Gum, Lad!!

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