Knock knock

It was time for a visit to Mr and Mrs Nunn.  Mostly because I needed a new topic for a Plog.

I told Mrs Nunn that I was going to a hotel in a nearby village for a meal that night with my friends Erica and Dean.

"What's the name of the hotel?" Mrs Nunn asked.

I told her.  Let's say it was called The Fox and Hound.

"The Fox and Hound in Barrow?" Mrs Nunn asked.

"Yes," said I.

"I heard that was a knocking shop," said Mrs Nunn.

Oh.  Well, plans had been made, and my friends and I met for a dinner at aforementioned knocking shop.  It was all very nice.  We had three courses from an extensive menu and caught up on all the news.  It looked like a perfectly lovely country restaurant and hotel - no sign of any dodgy activity at all.  Certainly no hookers - unless middle-class Boden-dressed ladies with children and elderly ladies are the predilection of the general population in Barrow.

After a nice evening, I got back to my parents' house.

"Did you have a nice meal?" asked Mrs Nunn.

"Yes thanks," I said.  "And I've no idea why you said it was a knocking shop - it was perfectly nice.  Definitely not a brothel."

"I didn't say it was a brothel!" protested Mrs Nunn.  "I said it was a knocking shop."

Mr Nunn looked amused.

"What's a knocking shop then?" I asked.

"Well, you know," said Mrs Nunn, "a place people go to to stay overnight and have sex."

"What," I said, "you mean a hotel?"

"No!" insisted Mrs Nunn, "I mean where people go away for a dirty weekend!"

"You mean a romantic hotel where you go away with your partner?"

"Yes!" said Mrs Nunn, "But you also have sex!"

Mr Nunn looked even more amused.

"So let me get this straight," I clarified, "any hotel where you have sex is a knocking shop?"

"Shut up," said Mrs Nunn, thus winning the argument.