A state of war now exists between myself and Myles.
The kid has taken to trumping on me, guerrilla style.
While I didn’t retaliate at the time for fear of having a poo on his head, which would need to be rubbed into his hair and then dried with a hair-dryer, next weekend I’ll have saved up my trumps…
With both me and the kid farting and guffing, Shaun’s probably going to need a gas mask.
Actually, Shaun will probably join in and clear the house.