It's a puppet!!!

I bin thinking. I'd just seen Philip Schofield touting his latest offering to beef up the lottery ratings, and I was recalling his erstwhile sidekick from a few years ago - Gordon the Gopher. This brought on other memories of favourite TV puppets, ranging from Muffin to the recently resurrected Basil Brush. I then began thinking - what exactly would it be like to really live with a small fox, who constantly told very bad jokes, and then proceeded to laugh like a Morris Minor trying to start on a cold morning? How annoying would that be? Or sharing a bedsit with an egomaniacal rat called Roland, who kept inviting his stupid mates around to run errands for him? The accent alone would drive me to stuff him in a small orange bucket, freeze him, then pack him off to KFC to join his mates in the fryer.

You see, it's not practical to live with someone whose habits drive you up the wall. Whose very presence triggers a sneezing fit. Whose laugh would tempt you into voting against banning fox-hunting.

Perhaps, though, there are benefits to such a co-habiting arrangement. Puppets don't leave acidic puddles and piles of evil smelling excrement on the floor. They don't squeeze the middle of the toothpaste tube. They wouldn't leave their used knickers on the bedroom floor for days.

They would, however, keep very quiet until you shoved a finger or two up their ass and wiggled.

Well, wouldn't we all...