Wee in the Tea-pot.

Our front door

"What's green, yellow, and orange, has no superego to speak of, and can recite Hegel's Phenomenology of Spirit in its entirety, in the original German, backwards, while accompanying itself on the piano accordion and eating a bacon sandwich?"

"I don't know.  Give us a clue.  Where does it live?"

"It lives up your chimney."

"What does it eat?"

"It likes milk chocolate digestives.  McVities ONLY.  But it realises it's being a snob."

"So it has insight.  Does that not indicate that it does in fact have a superego?"

"...."

"I see. You don't know what you're talking about, do you?"

"No."

"Good.   Now let's get on with the game.  Loser has to thread the other one's eyebrows."

"I've not got eyebrows."

"That doesn't matter, because you're going to lose."

"How DARE you!"

"Oh shut your pie-hole and put the kettle on. Look, I'm sorry, all right?  I've not got eyebrows either.  And what's more I don't care. Let's crack open the Soreen loaf and forget about it."

"Maybe.  Maybe not.  You said to shut my pie-hole and that's not very nice.  It'll take more than Soreen loaf to make up for that."

"I said I was sorry."

"You said it too fast.  It was meaningless."

"No really.  Really, I am sorry.  Will that do?  It better had because it's all you're getting.  I know there's issues and stuff underlying my foul nature, but I can't be bothered dealing with them.  Can't we just have a nice cup of tea and not talk about it any more?"

"Oh I s'pose. I weed in the teapot when I was in a temper last night by the way. I really regret it now that you've said all that.  If I rinse it out with boiling water do you think it'll be OK?"

"No."