Earlier this week my son had his second bout of rotovirus immunisations. The result of this has been that all week he has been a bit groggy, developed a slight case of the sniffles, and perhaps most notably his bowel movements have become a bit less regular. The first evidence of this was when he had a day with a lot more poos than usual (I was at work, so my poor wife had to deal with the brunt of that scataogical onslaught which saw the demise of around 5 outfits) This was followed by a day with no pooing at all, the constipated calm before the storm if you will. The episode came to a dramatic and literally breathtaking climax yesterday when, without any warning, he let rip with the mother of all POOnamis. A true aPOOcalypse. A pyroclastic flow of liquid trouser-gunk that brought a lump of vomit to the throat, tears to the eyes and a true sense of shock and awe in all that observed it (me and his mum). The floods of steaming toxic ectoplasm that erupted from him were a true wonder of the natural world, a cross between an Icelandic geyser, the entire Glastonbury toilet infrastructure and a some form of nightmarish gravy waterfall. I honestly think that we may now be under surveillance from the secret services as this event could easily be interpreted as an act of war. It is good to know however that within his nappy our little man is concealing a powerful form of chemical weaponry, which if nothing else may act as a deterrent should anyone have any intention of staging an invasion.