Snot fishing

WARNING: THIS POST MAY SERIOUSLY DAMAGE YOUR BREAKFAST. THE FOLLOWING IS INAPPROPRIATE, DEPRAVED, JUVENILE, AND UTTERLY FOUL. ONLY READ ON IF YOU ARE PREPARED TO GET KNEE DEEP IN NOSE CONTENTS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED...

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I have invented a new sport. Like many of the greatest recreations, it was born out of necessity, yet has ultimately developed into a true art. It is the noble pursuit of Snot Fishing. It will no doubt be snapped up by the Olympic committee for London 2012, so don't forget that you heard of it here first. I'll be expecting royalties. And an appropriate statue. Made from snot. Of course.

One of the great design failings of babies is that they can't blow their noses. That and the explosive pooing, of course. And there's nothing more pathetic (and, truth be told, annoying) than a snorkerling, grunting, blocked up little thing at three in the morning. A solution needed to be found.

In the past, I am led to believe, people would actually physically suck their baby's nose clear. Using their mouth. Directly. Leading to a mouth full of baby snot. Now, much as I love my darling little Lumpy, there are limits.

Luckily we live in an advanced society, where there are tools for every job imaginable. And thus we discovered the Snot Sucker TM (actually, it's called the Baby Nose-Clear. Which is a very dull name, made worse by the addition of an unnecessary hyphen. (I am the official scourge of hyphens. One day I'll tell you that story, you lucky, lucky people. Person. Empty space.) The makers can use my far superior name, for a small fee. Just get in touch, guys).

We'd tried some inferior, sucky bulb thingies, but they were laughably ineffective, and just huffed air gently up Lumpy's nose, merely pushing it further into Lumpy's brain, rather than sucking it out. And then we found the Snot Sucker TM, and everything changed.

At first I wasn't convinced. The Snot Sucker TM works like this. There's a long tube, with a chamber at one end, with a little pipe you shove up into the baby's nose. This, essentially, has a Snot Catcher guard, which prevents you sucking the snot all the way along the tube and into your mouth. Phew! You pop the pipe up Snotbag's nose, pop the other end in your gob, and suck. Et voila!

Here is my solo, iPhone photo montage of it in action. I am an ace photographer, as you can see. And a borderline abusive parent. But only borderline, which is what matters.

(I'm not a mental. I'm not. Stop phoning Childline.)

Except we couldn't get anything out at first. We sucked and sucked, and Lumpy screamed and squealed in protest, and still - no snot.

But then, with hours of dedication and practice, we struck gold. Snotty gold.

One morning, I was staring up Lumpy's nose (we don't have much in the way of entertainment round these parts. As you may have guessed). I could see the snot, hanging there tantalizingly, teasing me, laughing at my helplessness. (It was. Really. You should have heard it). I seized the Snot Sucker TM, shoved it up Lumpy's snoz, and sucked like I'd never sucked before. And this is what I managed to catch:

(I'M GOING TO REPEAT THE GROSSNESS WARNING HERE, BECAUSE THIS IS PROPERLY GROSS. I MEAN IT.)

(REALLY)

(OK, HERE WE GO...)


You know what? That doesn't do it justice. It needs to be larger.


Now that's better. I swear to God, that thing was two inches long. I thought I'd sucked his brain out for a minute. And then I was filled with a swelling pride. I sent the photo to Mr Badger immediately. He advised me to kill it. Quickly. And get out of the house.

Since then, I've been addicted. Each morning I have a good look up Lumpy's nose, to see how the fishing looks that day. I usually make a pretty good catch, but nothing has ever rivalled that first, mighty example. The Moby Dick of snot. Now framed and displayed with pride above Lumpy's cot. You think I'm kidding?