THE CONSULTING ROOM

"What are you taking now?" Lardwaft asked, tapping his notepad with a wipple and scrutinising Boff closely.
The truth was, Boff was no longer taking anything, and he said so. The last time he had seen the Important Squirrel, Lardwaft had given Boff the all clear and taken him off the special nuglumps. Boff had been clean for over half a swenge now and, during that time, had not once felt the need to strollop his twangnuts. So, things were looking up, wondering whether anything was going to land on them.
"And how are your fluffy underpillows?" the Important Squirrel enquired, peering over his foculars.
"A trifle sweet, with custard, but I can't complain," Boff replied.
"Excellent." The Squirrel leaned back in his flan, and nibbled the end of his wipple. "In that case, I don't think you need to see me again for, oh, another ten wadgets. Unless there's anything else...?"
Boff flushed and shifted uncomfortably on his blancmange, clearing his throat. "Actually, I wanted to raise something rather delicate..."
"Not in public I hope!" the Important Squirrel cut in, with a chuckle.
"Indeed not." Boff frowned, before continuing, "It's about my poppleshaft."
The Important Squirrel leaned forward suddenly, all hint of jollity gone from his demeanour.  "You have a poppleshaft?" he asked, incredulous.
"Yes, two ninety-nine in Tescos. I got cashew nuts and a big bag of carrots too."
But the Important Squirrel was not listening. Indeed, he was no longer in the room and only the flapping of the curtain indicated that he had been there in the first place.
Boff stared into space for a moment, then sighed resignedly and got up to go home.
"Why does that always happen when I mention my poppleshaft?" he wondered.
But, of course, nobody answered.