Cedric and Julian were the last of a dying breed. The great white hunters of yester year. They had both been children of the British Empire, born and brought up in Kenya but more British than you or I.
They had hunted all the big game of Africa in their youth, had all the trophies, from elephant tusks to leopard skins but their world was gone. They were both eighty years old and retired to Sussex in England with a private income.
Time was running out so they decided to go back to Africa for their last big game hunt. There was only one way to travel, British Airways, first class, for they were colonial British gentleman of yesteryear with wonderful cut glass accents. When Cedric said “good morning” it sounded like he was speaking with a mouth full of marbles. When Julian said “good night” he positively purred. They were indeed a dying breed.
They travelled by chauffeur to Heathrow Airport and were taken via the VIP lounge to their first class cabin. The stewardesses were young, slim, attractive and wonderfully attentive.
It’s not long before the plane takes off for this sentimental last trip. Gin and tonics flow as freely as the mighty Zambezi river and the reminiscing begins.
They talk of campfires, nights under the stars, lion hunts, elephant charges, great deeds and narrow escapes. All the while they get louder and louder but this is first class, they can do what they like.
All at once Julian says “Cedric, my dear boy, I think you will find that it is spelled as W OO O M – yes – WOOOM.
Julian, my dear boy, you are absolutely wrong old chap. It is certainly spelled as W H O O O M – yes WHOOOM.
At that very moment a very pretty, young, helpful stewardess is walking past. Training is everything and this is first class. She just has to help these two aged white hunters.
She leans over and it immediately grabs their attention.
“Gentlemen, she says – I think you will both find that it is spelled W O M B – yes – WOMB.
With that she turns gracefully away and floats off down the cabin as Julian and Cedric, the last of the great white hunters, take a careful sip of their latest gin and tonic.
They look at each other, with the boyhood mischief they had all those years ago, and together they say as one…………………………………………it’s obvious that she has never heard an elephant fart!