operation he kept up a barrage of obscene observations and it was only the threat of a general anaesthetic that caused him to lower his voice. Even then his remark that the doctor and the Sister were less fitted for medicine than for offshore oil drilling could be heard in the waiting-room.
'That's right, send me out into the world like a bleeding petrol pump,' he said when he was finally allowed to go There's such a thing as the dignity of man, you know.'
The doctor looked at him sceptically. 'In the light of your behaviour I'll reserve my opinion on the matter. Call in again next week and we'll see how you're coming along.'
'The only reason I'll be back is if I don't come again,' said Wilt bitterly 'From now on I'll see the family doctor.' He hobbled out to a telephone and called for a taxi.
By the time he got home the anaesthetic was beginning to wear off. He went wearily upstairs and climbed into bed. He was lying there staring at the ceiling and wondering why he was not as other men presumably were when it came to bearing pain manfully, and wishing he was, when Eva returned with the quads.
'You do look awful,' she said encouragingly as she stood by the bed.
'I am awful,' said Wilt. 'Why I should be married to a female circumcisionist, God alone knows.'
'Perhaps it will teach you not to drink so much in future.'
'It's already taught me not to let you get your mitts near my waterworks,' said Wilt. 'And I mean waterworks.'
Even Samantha had to contribute to his misery. 'When I grow up I'm going to be a nurse, daddy.'
'Bounce on the bed like that again and you won't grow up to be anything,' snarled Wilt on the recoil.
Downstairs the telephone rang.
'If it's the Tech again, what shall I tell them?' asked Eva.
'Again? I thought I told you to say I was sick.'
'I did but they've phoned back several times.'
'Tell them I'm still sick,' said Wilt. 'Just don't mention what with.'
'They probably know anyway by now. I saw Rowena Blackthorn at playschool and she said she was sorry to hear about your accident,' said Eva, going downstairs.
'And which of you quadraphonic loudspeakers blurted the good news about daddy's whatsit to Mrs Blackthorn's little prodigy?' asked Wilt, turning a terrible eye on the quads.
'I didn't,' said Samantha smugly.
'You just egged Penelope on to, I suppose. I know that look on your mug.'
'It wasn't Penny. It was Josephine. She played with Robin and they were playing mummies and daddies.
'Well when you get a little older you'll learn that there's no such thing as playing mummies and daddies. You will find instead that there is a war between the sexes and that you, my sweethearts, being females of the species, invariably win.'
The quads retreated from the bedroom and could be heard conferring on the landing. Wilt edged his way out of bed in search of a book and was just getting back with Nightmare Abbey, which was sufficiently unromantic to suit his mood, when Emmeline was pushed into the room.
'What do you want now? Can't you see I'm ill?'
'Please Daddy,' said Emmeline, 'Samantha wants to know why you've got that bag tied to your leg.'
'Oh she does, does she?' said Wilt with dangerous calmness. 'Well you can tell Samantha and through her Miss Oates and her animal minders that your daddy wears a bag on his leg and a pipe up his prick because your mummsyfuckingwumsy took it into her empty head to try to rip off daddywaddy's genitalia on the end of a strip of fucking sticking-plaster. And if Miss Oates
