Dutch oven

The ancient albeit revolting yet amusing act of climbing into bed with you beloved wife, kissing her gently on the forehead, before bidding her a good nights sleep.

As she focuses her mind on wallpaper, ironing boards and other household treats, you focus yours on seeping out a revolting and rotten fart, which likely has sharticles in its cloud. As you tuck the bedding around you and create a glue system from the top of the duvet, you push the rancid gas out of your Japanese flag. As you raise your arms then drop them suddenly, the inner workings of your crease rise upwards, giving darling wife a cup cake of dinner times Sunday roast.

Watch her gag in horror. Yes, that’s from inside your bottom yet is now inside her nose. Delighted, you have created and delivered a Dutch Oven. Well done

As Deidre fell asleep dreaming of new scatter cushions and ironing bits covers, I gave her a right proper Dutch oven. She nearly gagged as I sniggered

Haps

Haps as in happy or happiness

They were totes haps. They were totally happy