A Very Nice Mum

Another Nice Mum gig at the Etc Theatre last night.
I arrived feeling slightly affronted, as only TWO hooded youths had tried to sell me skunk in the 200 yards twixt tube and theatre. Usually I get at least 3 offers. Clearly I am too old and square-looking. Perhaps they look at me from beneath their strategically shaved eyebrows, and see a policeman (my pristeen trainers / M&S slacks combo setting off the whole vice squad look nicely).
The gig went well, and a jolly sympathetic crowd found laughs in places I didn't know there were any. Sadly Nick Swift couldn't make it (he'd been upchucking all weekend, which I put down to the dodgy country ciders he enjoys so much), so I performed our new song about hoodies on my own, rather falteringly.
As the audience filed out for their half time Jesus juice, a pair of 8 year old kids shuffled past, followed by their mum. In horror, all the filth from my set came flooding back, including the phrase "anal wart" (and worse). I muttered an apology to Mum about the swearing, but all she said was "I really enjoyed it, and they've heard it all before". Come to think of it, most eight year olds are probably more foul-mouthed than I am.
The little f*ckers.