Oliver and Stephen both have trouble with their knickers in two scenes from previous adventures. Drawings by the excellent Alan Lawrence

Oliver had returned from a visit to the bathroom when Great Aunt Agnes noticed a problem with the knickers of his Sunday church outfit. "What on earth...?" Oliver had been found out. When his cousin Mavis, had adjusted his knickers for him he had experienced a boys natural reaction. Dashing off to the loo to conceal his protuberance, he discovered he had produced quite an amount of gooey pre-cum. The leakage was now perfectly visible soaking into the white cotton at the front of his knickers. What to do? Cleverly, or so he thought, he removed his knickers and turned them around. Of course he had not counted on eagle eyed Great Aunt Agnes. Caught by her loitering on the walk to church, she spotted the condemning stains on his rear end. Suffice to say that particular rear end was shortly to receive an uncommon amount of attention. 

It was a very windy morning when Stephen set off to return some library books and then on to the barbers for a, "short and smart haircut" as per his mums instructions. When Patricia, the young nursing student from two doors down called out to him.  "Stephen, are these your incontinence pants? Only they have just blown into our garden." He felt his face redden. "No..no......... of course not. What makes you think they are mine?" he stammered. Laughing she replied. "Oh I don't know, perhaps it's the three identical pairs that are still pegged to your mum's washing line." His face was now the same colour as the pants.
"Oh those pants. Yes well I was a bit unwell and I...." She laughed again. "No need to explain Stephen, I have seen plenty of boys wearing nappies and plastic pants, just not pink ones. Is that your nightshirt on the line too?" She asked with a twinkle in her eye. He looked at the garment wrapped around the line due to the wind. "Of course not, that is my mums nightgown," he protested.
Patricia stared at the ground. "Sorry my mistake. In that case those space rocket winceyette pyjamas twisted around that bush probably aren't yours either are they?" Already caught out in a lie, Stephen gave up. "well, yes actually they are my pyjamas," he whispered. "Thanks, I'll take them to mum to wash again." He picked up his embarrassing, little boy pyjamas. "Don't forget your wee-wee pants," she said, thrusting them into his hand as she strolled off, still laughing.