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Singing the Asterisked Verses





In the nineteen fifties, my grandmother Atkinson got herself into a state of wretched cowment because neighbours up to three doors down on either side might hear her at her business in her new indoorsy toilet.

She explained, 'The council took it upon themselves to send round what looked like a chain gang, except not in the stripy flannelette pyjamas they do have - or the bed hats - who did damage my nerves with their banging.  And there it was.  A toilet.  Indoors.  Looking very bright and new.  And I immediately settled it in with some Jeyes Fluid, of course.  Standards.  But I've also got my pride, so I'll be sticking with the privy.  Not to be overheard...'  

'Why not sing hymns like the rest of us, Nancy?' the neighbours asked. 

Fair question.  

But how to admit that adequately drowning out the effects of Nancy's ever-upflaring bit of bowel would take all the verses, including the asterisked ones, of "Guide Me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah"?



Nancy eventually moved to a detached property, saying, 'It's a bungalow, but with upstairs...'

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