[This reminds me of the days I spent crouched in an outhouse in the dead of winter. The memory warms the cockles of my heart. Mind you, in those days, my cockles needed warming.
In the mid-’50s, in Geraldton, we still had the honey wagon making its rounds. The driver visited all the outdoor privies and emptied the five-gallon pails into the tank of the trailer he was pulling around.
After you’ve seen the video, return to this space and I’ll tell you a joke:]
[Joke: In the early days of Geraldton, the honey wagon was a horse-drawn tank-trailer. One day it was pretty warm, and the driver draped his jacket over the tank. While he was dumping a pail, the jacket fell in. He reached down to retrieve it.
A passer-by yelled at him, “Hey, Lenny, forget it! You can’t ever wear that jacket again!”
Lenny said, “Jeez, I know that. But that’s not why I need it.”
“Oh? What’re you doing it for then?”
“I got me lunch in the pocket.”]