The Underpants that Can't be Destroyed

Geoffrey's 'special ornament'

We had a visit from the Tupfinder General last night.  He had a terrible case of the jitters. He was twitching so much that at one point he accidentally fired off a round from his sawn-off shotgun and smashed Geoffrey's 'special ornament' - a ceramic boot which he brought back as a keep-sake from a holiday in Kyle of Lochalsh in 1974, and which has been gathering dust on the mantlepiece ever since.
'I'm sure it will mend as good as new Geoffrey,'  I soothed. 'Fetch the superglue. I'm sure we've still got some left in the Box of Useful Stuff under the sink, from when we managed to fix the lavatory seat.  I was keeping it specially for emergencies in case I had to glue someone's mouth shut.  But your 'special ornament' takes precedence, and we can always get more.  By someone, I don't mean you, of course.'
'Why are you being so kind to me Tuppy?  It isn't like you.'
'I don't know.'  It was true.  I didn't know, and it wasn't like me.  In fact, it was quite alarming.  But I'd think about that later.  In the meantime, we had the raving Tupfinder General to deal with.
Apparently,  Mrs T-G started writing a 'novel' yesterday morning, and is refusing to do any of her usual 'household activities' until she's written it.
'I'm going demented Tuppy!' he raved, 'She's locked herself in the upper room and she won't come out till it's done, and mark my words it'll take sodding YEARS for her to finish it. She can't even write a shopping list without consulting a thesaurus at least fifteen times.  I'm even having to make my own tea!  And I can't find my best socks. The stripey ones with no holes in. I've no clean underpants left and I don't know how to work the washing machine, and we've run out of biscuits and that blue stuff that she puts down the toilet.  What am I going to do?'
'Oh I wouldn't worry about your underpants T-G,' I began.
'We wear ours till they go crusty don't we Tuppy?' interrupted Geoffrey. 'And then we turn them inside out.  After that, they disintegrate.  In fact, we're rather needing new underpants ourselves, aren't we Tuppy? Would you like one of our biscuits, T-G? We've got loads.'
The T-G sighed and sat down on the squashiest part of the settee.
Just then, Razor Bill arrived with the post.  'Can't stop lads,' he said,'I'm doing a leaflet drop for the Narks. Val's giving me a week's supply of flapjacks if I get it done before lunch.'
I picked up the leaflet. 'Hmm.  Look, T-G.  This just might solve your problem...'
'What is it, Tuppy?' asked Geoffrey, peering over my shoulder.
'Val Nark's started a new line in her shop.  She's selling indestructible underpants.  She's making them herself and weaving them out of nettle fibres and thistles.  Apparently, they're indestructible due to their - and I quote - 'PRETERNATURAL PREHENSILE STRENGTH'. Good grief.'
'They sound like just the very dab!' said the T-G, leaping to his feet (or foot). 'I'm off up to the Narks to get a pair.'

Later - Geoffrey admits that he believes a 'thesaurus' is a type of prehistoric dinosaur-style monster, and the T-G models his new underpants...and encounters a not-entirely-unpredictable problem......

Find more of my Tuppy and Geoffrey tales here http://www.amazon.co.uk/Kate-Smart/e/B008MFK3NE/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1