The people in the kitchen of the pub all looked at each other, wincing as they imagined such a sight, and poor old John's bright red face with his cheeks all puffed up and eyes bulging. 'Feels like me insides are trying to get out,' he said wheezing. 'We'll 'ave you sorted in no time Johnny boy,' she said, reaching into her formidable basket of hidden depths. The onlookers craned their necks as if to see from where the magic came. She pulled out some blackened seedpods and, with time-learned skill, crushed them quickly into a thick paste and added some honey. 'Get that down ya, and get yourself off to the men's room, sharpish,' she smiled. The pods were pure senna seeds... 'That lot could clear the drains of this whole land,' she laughed with a sympathetic grin. Johnny trudged off clutching his backside as if to hold in what was left of his guts and, as he disappeared around the door, a large gurgle and a soft squeaky sound followed him, almost like someone shutting a small door. 'Ooh my Lord, what the....' The kitchen staff and Anne roared with laughter as the noises omitted from the small brick lav echoed around the building. Johnny played up his condition – blowing loud raspberries with his tongue off the back of his hand. next »