Gassing

"Your mother's in a mard," said Mr Nunn.

"Why?" I asked.

"I turned the oven on, and I checked it had lit, and left the room. But it must have gone out, because she said the room was filled with gas."

"So why is she upset?"

"I don't know."

"Put her on."

"Hello," said Mrs Nunn, her voice clearly indicating she was indeed in a mard.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Your dad left the gas on without checking the oven was lit. So when I went in and could see what happened, and pressed the ignition, there was a big burst of flames. He could have taken my head off!"

"Hang on, hang on," said I. "You could smell gas in the room?"

"Yes," sulked Mrs Nunn.

"And you knew the oven was on?"

"Yes..." Mrs Nunn continued.

"So why did you press the button to light the gas? Wouldn't it have been better to open the windows and turn the oven off for a bit?"

"Humph," replied Mrs Nunn.

Rumour has it that Mr Nunn was just getting ready to put his head in it. Or maybe hers.