Maurice the Frogs Outing

Maurice the frog was q###r; of this he had no doubt and all the lady frogs just made him yawn. He sat all day on his lily pad, flicking his tongue at passing flies, with never a thought of ever wanting to spawn. At night the pond was redolent with the sound of humping frogs, the 'revitting' would turn a young frog mad. But, alas, poor Maurice's only joy was a male frog's fashion catalogue, bequeathed to him by his late, lamented dad. And so he spent his idle hours with nary a care or frown, plodding along his solitary road. Until the day in early spring his life turned upside down, on discovering he was, in fact, a toad. This news, to him was quite a shock from a passing dragonfly, which alighted on a nearby flower frond. ‘You want to cross the road’, it said, ‘there's loads of toads like you having toady fun in their own toady pond’. And from under his wing he produced a book, ‘Toads Only’, it said on the cover, Maurice turned to its centre pages eyes agog. And there in Technicolor for all the world to see was a lady toad, spread-eagled on a log. He was well and truly smitten as on her picture he did gaze, her bulging eyes as black as Yorkshire coal. He thought about eating the dragonfly but quickly went off this, who needs fly when you can have toad in the hole. So Maurice set off straight away, though the going was quite tough, the first leg almost gave him a heart attack. But on the crest of the rise he could see the road and the toady pond beyond and was greeted by a passing Natterjack. The uphill struggle behind him now his back legs found new spring, the going was much easier on the flat. He thought of all the lady toads and the tadpoles they would have, another hop, another leap then - SPLAT! The moral of this sorry tale is simple, short and sweet; the fairer sex will only make you cry. Be happy in your own back yard, forget the frog and toad and next time - eat the dragonfly!