I was tickled pink when Josie related the story last week about a 60-year-old Australian grandmother called Paddy Trumbull who got into an unmerciful scrap with a five-foot shark while out snorkelling from a boat near the Whitsunday Islands, Queensland.
Paddy felt a tug to her body and when she turned around she came face to face with a set of razor-sharp gnashers that were looking for something juicy to chew on. Before she had time to say G'day Bruce, the shark got a hold of her and, despite being asked nicely, refused to let go.
Unfazed, the 60 year-old decided to fight back and, with a couple of uppercuts that Barry McGuigan would have been proud of, she started punching the living daylights out of the shark. In a smart move the sharp-toothed blighter tried dragging her under the water so Paddy changed tack, grabbed him by the head and started kicking and punching him in the neck. Her shocked husband, feeling sorry for the shark, managed to drag Paddy off him and pull her back onto the boat. The shark disappeared, but not empty-handed -- Paddy was missing part of her bottom.
"What she will need now is a dose of gluteoplasty," said Maggie with all the knowledge of someone who devours every issue of Heat/Chat/Fanny's Your Aunt magazine that she can get her hands on. Her knowledge of celebs and their plastic surgery habits is unsurpassable. (Having said that, ordinary life can sometimes go over her head to such an extent that she thinks a Deirdre de Burca is something Irish women wear out of respect when they go on their holliers to Afghanistan.)
"What in the name of God is gluteoplasty?" asked Patsy. Maggie went off on a spiel about gluteus maximus and gluteus minimus, two muscles in the buttocks.
"She can get injections between the minimus and maximus to build up a fat deposit or, if Jaws has made off with most of those two muscles, she can get silicone implants, similar to breast implants but a little bigger and Bob's her uncle, she'll have a bum like J-Lo. She's so lucky."
"To have survived?" I asked.
"To be able to get a new bottom," replied Maggie, wistfully.
"We can organise a trip Down Under for you if you like," I said.
"Waste of time," said Josie.
"What do you mean?" demanded Maggie.
"There's not a shark in Australia big enough to take on your arse."
Laugh? We nearly had to be carried out.